Dragon Age: Inseparable
by MB18932
Summary: Morrigan and Matthew Cousland have performed the ritual needed to save the life of the Warden who kills the Archdemon. But what if she didn't leave after the battle?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction ever, so please, do not bludgeon it until it is unrecognizable. I will do my best to improve over time. Thank you for understanding.

Disclaimer: The Dragon Age name, logo, setting and characters are all property of Bioware Corporation. I have not, nor have I ever, claimed them as my own work. Matthew Cousland is my creation.

Inseparable

_What if Morrigan didn't leave after the ritual was performed? What if she remained at her love's side, continued to help him, and raised a family with him, from Redcliff, to Denerim, to Vigil's Keep, and into the new Mage-Templar War? This is the tale of what might have been…. _

Chapter one

_Matthew's POV_

Matthew Cousland stepped out of Riorden's room, completely devastated by what he had just learned. He ran his hand through his flame-red hair, contemplating this new information; when the Archdemon, Uthemial, leader of the darkspawn hoard, and catalyst of this Blight, was slain, the soul of the now corrupted Old God would pass into the nearest souless spawn, and the dragon would be reborn in all its horrid glory and power.

This was why Grey Wardens, such as himself, were needed; having drank darkspawn blood, and taken their Taint into themselves, Wardens could sense the monsters, and could combat them more effectively. There was more, however; because they were affected by the Taint, the Archdemon's soul would be tricked into entering the Grey Warden why slew the dragon. But two such entities could not exist in the same body. Both souls were destroyed; the Archdemon destroyed utterly, the Blight ended, but at the cost of the life of the Warden who made the killing blow.

Matthew felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his good friend, Alistair. They had met at Ostagar, and it had taken all of 5 minutes for him to like him. The bastard son of the late King Maric, Alistair had been raised in the custody of Arl Eamon, before being sent to the Chantry to be trained as a Templar, the holy warriors that guarded the Chantries and contained the mages of the Circle of Magi.

_Persecute, scapegoat, and slaughter the mages is more accurate._ Matthew thought, his thoughts darkening still further. He had never believed the Chantry's tale of the Maker, the supposedly kind, benevolent god who condemned all life in this world for the actions of a few greedy individuals, not once, but _Twice!_ As a result, he had developed a thorough dislike for Chantry, which had turned into fully-fledged hatred when he arrived at the Circle's Tower on Lake Calenhad, seeking aid against the Darkspawn. Demons had overrun the tower, but instead of trying to save the mages trapped in their prison, the knight- commander held his men back, awaiting permission to invoke the Rite of Annulment, which essentially allowed him to unleash genocide on the mages. Furious with such cowardice, Matthew and his companions had stormed through the tower, obliterating every demon and possessed mage they found. They had rescued numerous mages, including several children, First Enchanter Irving, and Senior Enchanter Wynne, who had left to accompany him against the Blight. All of these good people would have been killed if the Templers had done "the Maker's will".

Fortunately, Alistair had _hated_ the Templers, and their divine mission, and had been overjoyed when Duncan, the senior Grey Warden of Fereldan, had conscripted him into the Wardens. He claimed it was the first time he felt that belonged anywhere. Since then, the two had become fast friends, and had gotten into innumerable miss-adventures, the greatest of which, so far, was organizing the Landsmeet and overthrowing regent Lohgain Mac Tir, the man who had abandoned King Cailan and his army at Ostagar, then tried to blame the Grey Wardens for his own treason.

Matthew had revealed Lohgain's crimes to the noble's of the Landsmeet, overthrew Lohgain and his daughter, Queen Anora, executed the former, imprisoned the latter, and put Alistair on his father's throne. Alistair had nearly begged Matthew not to do such a thing to him previously, but Matthew had discounted his ramblings; he knew Alistair was a good man, and despite what his friend claimed, a good leader. He had no doubt that Alistair would make an excellent King.

But then Riorden had told them the truth, and Matthew was faced with a horrible dilemma; he was the last of the Couslands, the noble family that had ruled the Teyrnir of Highever since before Ferelden was a single nation. His family had been slaughtered the year previous by Rendon Howe, the traitorous Arl of Amaranthine, at the start of the Blight. Matthew had tracked down and personally killed his father's former friend, but the enormous damage was done; he was the only survivor of Howe's attack, and his older brother, Fergus, whose wife and son had also been killed, was missing in the Korcari Wilds. If Matthew died killing the Archdemon, his family line would be ended forever.

But Matthew knew that if it came down to it, he must make the final blow. Alistair, like him, was the last of his line; he was the only living descendant of Calanhad, the man who had originally united Fereldan into a single country. If Alistair died, the entire nation could fall apart. It was Matthew's duty that, if Riorden failed to slay Uthemial, than he must do so.

"So," Alistair said, bringing Matthew back to reality. "This is it." "Yes." Matthew replied. "One way or the other, this will end." Alistair nodded. "Well, I guess you'd like to get some sleep before our march to the capital. I'll let you turn in; I'd like to get some cheese from the pantry anyway." This forced a laugh out of Matthew; how could he possibly think of food at a time like this!

"Alright then, good night, your Majesty." Alistair frowned. " I still haven't forgiven you for that, you know", he growled, and stormed off. Matthew chuckled; he knew Alistair would come around to being King of Fereldan, in time.

Again feeling the force of grim fate for what needed to be done, Matthew sighed, turned and entered his empty room.

Only thing was, it wasn't empty.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As Matthew entered his room, he saw the silhouette of a women standing in front of the fireplace. The bright flames made it difficult for his eyes to adjust, and out of pure instinct, he reached for his blade.

"Do not be alarmed. It is only I." came an alluring voice from the figure, and Matthew's veins seemed to fill with ice; Morrigan.

When Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, rescued Alistair and Matthew from Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar, she had sent Morrigan, her daughter, with her. Alistair, and almost every other companion they had picked up on their quest, had taken an almost immediate dislike to her; she behaved in an arrogant, disdainful way towards everyone. She could be petty, and sometimes downright cruel, and always preached survival at all costs, particularly if it came at the expense of others; as an apostate, a mage outside of the Circle of Magi, these were not welcome traits. All of the members of their group had hated her, and wanted her gone.

Matthew, sensed that not all was as it seemed when it came to her. Ever since they had set out together, he had used every ounce of his considerable wooing skill to try and get Morrigan out of her incredibly thick shell, and, after months of effort, he had proven his suspicions correct; beneath the hate and the arrogance, Morrigan was, in fact, and gentle soul, though she lied about it to everyone, especially herself. Once Matthew had broken trough to her true nature, he found it impossible not to fall in love with her. Morrigan, he believed, loved him in return, but, still clinging to her past lessons from her mother, insisted that love was a weakness. He would have argued the point, but then he heard Redcliff was being attacked by the darkspawn, which lead them hear.

Now, he was confronted yet another heart-wrenching decision; how could he tell Morrigan, the love of his life, that he was going to die within the next few days. How would she react to such news? Matthew was the only one who had every shown Morrigan any true kindness. He could not bear the thought of her reaction to the news that she would lose him.

"Is everything alright?" Matthew asked, as he was unable to think of anything else to say. "I am well. 'Tis you who are in danger. I have a plan, you see; a way out; a loop in your hole." _Can she already know about the Archdemon?_ Matthew thought. He wouldn't put it past her; she always seemed to know more about things than she let on. His suspicion was immediately confirmed. "I know what happens when the Archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed… and that that sacrifice could be you." She seemed to have difficulty saying the last part, and fear crept into her beautiful golden eyes. _So, she really does care._ After their last conversation, Matthew had feared she would break off their relationship, if only to spite herself. He now knew that Morrigan truly loved him, and with that, all fear of his demise evaporated.

"I have come to tell you that this does not need to be." _Saywhatnow._ Matthew looked at Morrigan, and saw that she was smiling. "Does not need to be? What do you mean?" Morrigan's smile grew. "I offer a way out. A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice. A ritual," Morrigan clarified, "performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night." "This is beginning to sound ominous", Matthew muttered, causing Morrigan to giggle. "What sort of ritual is it?" Matthew asked. "It is old magic," Morrigan answered, "from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some would call it blood magic, but that is but a name. There is far more to fear in this world than names." Matthew nodded, then said "Tell me more".

Morrigan nodded, then she sat down on the bed. "What I propose is this: lay with me. Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived. The child will bear the Taint, and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon." Matthew was outraged. How dare she suggest they allow a child, HIS child, to die before it had a taste of life! He was about to protest, but Morrigan held up a hand to silence him. "At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence, and _not_ perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process."

Matthew's mind was racing. He was deeply in love with Morrigan, and had often thought of starting a family with her. But he had never considered the possibility of having a child that was part Old God! Then a worse thought came to him; what if, after this child was born, he reignited the Blight! That could not be allowed to happen.

"So, the child will become a darkspawn?" Matthew asked, trying to gain more information on what Morrigan was planning. "Not at all", Morrigan replied. "It will become something different; a child born with the soul of an Old God." "And afterwards? What do you intend for this child?" Morrigan smiled again, and this smile was the warmest he had ever seen her give him. "Afterwards, you and I will raise and train him for what is to come." This confused Matthew. "Why? What is to come?" "Morrigan's smile acquired a smug and knowing quality. "Change is coming to the world. Many fear change, and will fight it with every fiber of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes change is what sets them free."

"Sure, that wasn't evasive at all." Matthew muttered, rolling his eyes. Morrigan laughed; Maker he loved that sound. "The future will reveal itself in time. Come my love, let us make this night one to remember."

Grinning his roguish grin, he grabbed Morrigan by her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and kissed her on the lips. Returning the kiss, Morrigan wrapped her arms around him, releasing the straps of his Dragonbone chainmail, even as he began loosening the ties of her blouse. Once they were both undressed, he lifted her up, and placed her on the bed, and they lost themselves in a night of lust and pleasure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, I was distracted by college and Gears of War 3. I will try to update more often. Also, the name Gleadr belongs to Christopher Paolini. **

Chapter 3

Matthew charged through Denerim's open gates, a snarl on his face, and the flaming Summer Sword, taken from Loghain's lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien's corpse. Swinging the blade in an overhead chop, he slashed a genlock from head to pelvis, than continued on to the melee brewing in the courtyard. So far, only his companions and a few of Redcliffe's soldiers had made it into the city, but more were coming in with each passing second.

As he ran, he saw dozens of hurlocks and genlocks swarm into the courtyard, trying to stop them with sheer numbers, but they were no match for Matthew's elite group. Parrying and slashing through the horde, he occasionally saw his other companions striking down foes; he saw Alistair stab a Hurlock in the chest, then crush its head with his shield; Leliana firing arrows so quickly her hands appeared bleared; Oghren cutting three darkspawn in half with one blow of his ax; Sten grabbing a Hurlock by the neck, and impaling it with his sword, Asala; Wynne healing fallen soldiers; Zevran leaping onto an ogre's chest and driving his sword into its shoulder, then its head; Gleadr, his mabari warhound biting a downed hurlocks head, and shaking it until the neck broke; and Morrigan, conjuring up a massive blizzard that froze a dozen darkspawn, leaving them defenseless.

Finally, the darkspawn began to retreat into the city as the New Army of Fereldan poured through the gates in earnest. It was an extremely motley collection of warriors; the forces of Redcliffe, under Arl Eamon; the Dalish elves, under Keeper Lanaya; the dwarves of Orzammar, under King Bhelen; and the surviving mages of the Circle of Magi, and their templar guards. Normally, Matthew would have objected to the templar presence, but the mages were vulnerable in close-quarters combat, and the army always needed skilled fighters, so he tolerated them.

Riorden then jogged up to him, bringing him out of his inner thoughts. "You managed to fight your way to the gates. We're doing better than I'd hoped!" "That will change quickly," Matthew heard Sten mutter as he pulled his blade out of a genlock's corpse. "Bloody nug-runners," Oghren shouted. "We're outnumbered 3 to 1!"

Riorden nodded. "The army will not last long, so we'll need to move quickly to defeat the archdemon. I suggest taking Alistair and no more than 2 others with you. Anyone you don't bring can remain here to prevent more darkspawn from coming in on our tails." "Yeah, quick question," Matthew said "how are we going to fight a FLYING DRAGON!" "We are going to need to reach a high point in the city." Riorden replied. "I'm thinking the top of Fort Drakon should work. Also, I can sense two darkspawn generals in Denerim. As soon as we engage the Archdemon, it will call these darkspawn to help it." "I am sure that if we kill those generals, it will stop the darkspawn in the city from doing a lot of harm." Leliana commented. "It may also waste resources trying to find them. Now," Riorden said, returning to their current situation, "who do you wish to take with you into the city?"

Matthew thought for a moment, then turned to his companions and barked, "Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana, you're with me! The rest of you, stay here and guard the gate. Sten, you're in charge here." The Qunari smiled, and replied, "Very likely."

"Good," Riorden cut in, "that should be sufficient. Nothing you have done will have prepared you for what you face now. May the Maker watch over you."

With that, Riorden turned, and charged into the city with the rest of the army. Matthew turned to his companions, whom he had come to regard as family, and walked up to them, determined to say goodbye to each of them if the worst should happen.

The first one he came to was Oghren. The dwarf turned to him and, with deep, thoughtful tone that was unlike him, said "Well, this is it Warden. When from the blood of battle the stone is fed, let the heroes prevail, and the blighters lie dead. As one of the blighters, I sodding salute you. Let's show them our hearts, and then show them theirs!" And with that, he walked off before Matthew could reply.

Next was Gleadr, his hound. The dog trotted up to him and gave a worried whine. "Don't worry, boy," Matthew said, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could, "I'll be back." Evidently, it was enough, because Gleadr barked happily, then went off after Oghren.

After him came Sten. The Qunari seemed to shake the earth as he walked up to him. "Are you ready?" Matthew nodded. "We have reached the battlefield at last." The Qunari almost seemed surprised by this. Matthew looked Sten in the eyes and said, "Thank you for all your help, Sten." "I have done nothing, kadan. You have carried us this far. Do not doubt that," Sten replied, then took his position by the gates.

Then came Leliana, and she had an odd look in her eyes. "So this is it," the bard started. "This is the end? We've come so far. It is strange to know that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours. I wonder if the heroes of old ever felt like this." "They probably did," Matthew replied. "They just didn't want to tell everyone that." Leliana giggled, than replied, "You're likely right. But there is still nowhere else I would rather be. This day we forge a legend of our own." She then headed over to one of the inner towers, waiting for the rest of their group.

Up next was Zevran, the Antivan Elvin assassin. With a humorous gleam in his eyes, he commented, "Heading off to slay dragons without me, hmmm. Fine, fine, but please say hello to the Archdemon for me. He never writes anymore; it is rather distressing." Laughing, Matthew said, "I'll be sure to mention that whilst I drive my sword into its skull." "Ah, that would surely get his attention; I thank you. And please, no getting eaten, unless you think it is really important, of course."

After Zevran left, Wynne joined him and Leliana. "So this is it then. All that we have been through has come to this." She paused, then she continued. "Whatever happens now, to either of us, know that I am proud, infinitely proud, to have called you my friend." "I feel the same, Wynne," Matthew replied. "Onward then, and may the Maker smile fortune upon us."

Finally, Alistair, King of Fereldan, spoke up. "Before we head after the Archdemon, I want to say something; as king, it is my duty to defend Fereldan against this Blight; I will be the one to take the final blow." Matthew considered telling him of Morrigan's ritual right then, but instead decided to say, "Alistair, under no circumstances are you to sacrifice yourself against that dragon." "Yes, mother," Alistair replied, rolling his eyes. Matthew would have protested further, but then Morrigan ran up to him, and began yelling at him indignantly.

"After all we have been through, I will not be going with you!" Matthew pulled her aside and whispered urgently, "I cannot allow you to be hurt, Morrigan. For reasons both practical _and_ sentimental." Morrigan paused, then smiled. "Ah, the mighty warrior fears his concubine will be done away with in his stead. Very well, I concede to your argument." Smiling, Matthew kissed his love with more passion than he had in recent memory, and Morrigan responded equally.

Finally, Alistair called for Matthew to hurry up, and he reluctantly parted from her. "I love you, Morrigan." "And I love you, as well," the Witch of the Wilds replied, as the last scion of House Cousland led the charge against evil incarnate.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Archdemon flared out its wings as it fell to the ground, knocking Matthew and Alistair back a good 15 feet. Wincing, Matthew got up and surveyed the situation; after a long, grueling battle, it seemed that the former Old God had finally hit its breaking point. After Riorden had slashed the beast's right wing, sacrificing himself in the process, the dragon had crashed onto the top of Fort Drakon. Matthew and his group had fought their way to the top, and engaged the flying darkspawn, and that led up to the present circumstances.

He then saw Alistair stand, and remove his helmet. He paused, then a determined fire lit in his eyes. _Oh, no you don't, _Matthew thought. _You are not doing this._ Granted, he had performed the ritual with Morrigan that would prevent Alistair from dying if he killed the Archdemon, but Matthew was no expert on performing magic; there was always the possibility something had gone wrong.

With this in mind, Matthew ran up to Alistair, and kicked him in the side of his left knee. With a massive crack, the joint dislocated, sending Alistair to the ground, screaming in agony.

"Sorry, your Majesty!" Matthew shouted as he ran at the Archdemon, grabbing a greatsword sticking into a darkspawn corpse as he did so.

At this point, the Archdemon was starting to recover. As Matthew ran at the dragon, it struck at him like a snake. Ducking, he stabbed the blade into the monster's neck, and, sliding across the floor, opened a massive laceration across Uthemial's throat. Whining in agony, the dragon again fell to the floor. Matthew than stood up, and turned to his defeated foe. _And here it is; the moment of truth._

With a snarl, Matthew lifted his sword into the air, and, ignoring Alistair's shout of "MATTHEW, NO," plunged the sword into the dragon's head. Suddenly, a massive, incredibly bright beam of light shot out of the spot where Matthew's sword had struck. Nearly blinded, Matthew closed his eyes. He tried to pull the sword out of the beast, but it seemed as if a thousand pairs of hands were holding the blade in the dragon's head.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, an explosion blasted out from the Archdemon's skull. As it did, Matthew felt a massive, _living_ force exit from the dragon's body, than shoot away from Fort Drakon, straight towards the front gates of the city. At the same time, Matthew was blasted back, hit his head on the stone floor, and lost consciousness.

_One month later…_

Matthew stood in the Landsmeet chamber, happier than he could remember being in a long time. After he had slain the Archdemon, the darkspawn hoard had collapsed, and the monsters had fled in all directions. After Matthew had recovered from Uthemial's death throes, he had run back to the gates so quickly that many thought that he had grown wings out of his ankles. To his complete relief, Morrigan was unharmed, and the rest of his companions had escaped injury. Privately, Matthew asked Morrigan if the ritual was successful, to which she replied: "Are you really so great a fool as to have to ask that question?"

His mind once again focused on his love, he turned his head slightly to steal another glance at her. She was not wearing her usual ragged attire; instead, she was garbed in an absolutely radiant red velvet dress that Matthew and Lelliana had practically shoved her into. Lelliana had wanted to add golden embroidery to the ensemble, an idea that, at the look of Morrigan's face, was quickly dropped. However, though the dress was plain, Matthew preferred it that way; all the different fashions that came and went with clothing just seemed a complete waste of time to him.

Matthew's gaze than drifted to the man standing next to Morrigan; his older brother, Fergus.

As it turned out, Loghain had ordered Fergus to take all his men and perform a "scouting in force", which any junior strategist would claim negated the entire point of scouting. The path Loghain sent them in led directly into the main body of the darkspawn hoard; Highever's army was destroyed, and Fergus was badly injured and left for dead. Upon hearing this news, Matthew wished Loghain was still alive, so he could execute him again.

Fortunately, Fergus had been found by some Chasind hunters, who took him to their shamans for healing. He had only just gotten back to Fereldan two weeks ago, where Matthew was tasked with the heartbreaking task of telling him that his wife and son, as well as their parents, were dead, betrayed by Arl Rendon Howe, their father's closest friend. It had taken a full week before Fergus had even left his room after the news; Matthew had never seen him so defeated before.

Now, however, he was standing next to his sister-in-law, looking at his brother with inexpressible pride. Because of the matching rosewood rings they wore, many people assumed that Matthew and Morrigan were married, and Matthew encouraged the rumors. When Morrigan found out, she had yelled at him for an hour.

"Why would you let people believe that I would tie myself down in such a manner?" she had concluded. "Don't think of it as tying yourself down, Morrigan," Matthew had replied. "Think of it as another reason why one of the most powerful, and influential people in Fereldan has to do pretty much everything you say." That line of reasoning had been more to Morrigan's liking, and after that she had gone on with the charade without complaint.

Alistair, who had just been officially crowned king, now turned to give a speech to the assembled nobles, so Matthew forced himself to stop reminiscing, and pay attention.

"My friends," Alistair began, "we are gathered to celebrate those who are responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one, in particular, who deserves….. commendation; the one who led the final charge against the Archdemon remains with us still; an inspiration to all he saved that day." At this Matthew stepped forward, and ascended the stairway , until he was at the same level as his King and his friend. Alistair, with his characteristic grin, turned to Matthew and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the Hero of Fereldan, the first Grey Warden to defeat the blight since Garahel four centuries ago." Everyone applauded, but none did with as much vigor as Fergus and Morrigan.

"My friend," Alistair continued, "It is hard to imagine how you could have aided Fereldan more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor. Is there a boon you would request of Fereldan's King. If it is within my power, I would gladly grant it." "I ask that the Howe's pay for the slaughter of my family and the unlawful seizure of our lands." Matthew answered almost immediately. Alistair nodded, not surprised in the least. "The Howes are hereby stripped of the Arling of Amaranthine, and their status as nobles of Fereldan." Matthew stole a glance at Fergus, whose face had gone blank; no punishment would be enough for him, Matthew knew.

"Let it also be known that the Arling of Amaranthine will be granted to the Grey Wardens. There, they can rebuild, following the example of those that came before them." Alistair than turned to him, and, in a much lower voice, asked "What are your plans?" Matthew's thoughts immediately went to preparing his child for some unspecified catastrophe, but as it was only a month past conception, that would be rather difficult. Instead, he answered, "I will help my brother retake Highever, than I will likely return here." Alistair looked extraordinarily relived. "Well, I didn't want to come right out and SAY it, but I'm relieved you'll be nearby."

He paused, then added "Ah, there's a group of Fereldan citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero, and who am I to keep them waiting. I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gates. Just tell the guard at the door when you're ready." Chuckling, Matthew walked down to the main floor, and began mingling with the nobles, starting with what was left of his family.

Fergus walked up to him and said, "When I heard my little brother was not only a Grey Warden, but was also leading Fereldan into battle, I was surprised, to put it mildly. Father…he would have been so proud of you. I know I am." Matthew felt himself tear up; it was the greatest compliment his brother had ever given him. "Thank you, Fergus. Thank you so much." He paused, then said, "Fergus… I am so sorry about Orianna and Oren." Any strength of bearing Fergus had fell away, leaving him looking so defeated that Morrigan put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Matthew. I've… been trying not to think about it." "That won't help, Fergus," Matthew immediately said. "Trying to ignore this will just make it worse. You have to look at your pain, acknowledge it, and let it go, or you'll only drive yourself insane." Fergus looked at him with the saddest expression Matthew had ever seen, and murmured "I don't know how." Struck by inspiration, Matthew took off his necklace, Reflection, and handed it to his brother. "Here, Fergus. While I was at the Temple of Andraste, a specter of father gave me this to help me move past my pain. I want you to have it now; you need it more than I do."

Fergus looked down at the necklace, then said, "Thank you, brother. I…I need to be alone for awhile." And with that he walked into one of the adjacent hallways. Morrigan looked at him, and then walked to her love's side. "Are you alright, love?" "No. Are you Morrigan?" The Witch of the Wilds immediately bristled. "Why must you always coddle me? I am a mage! I am more than capable of handling myself!" This forced a grin out of Matthew. "I was more concerned about your passenger." Morrigan started, then she smiled. "Your offspring is in perfect health, O Hero of Fereldan."

Matthew chuckled, then asked, "Morrigan, will you please go and be with Fergus for me; I fear I will not be able to weasel out of this celebration for something as trivial as my brother's emotional wellbeing." In what had to be a first, Morrigan looked nervous. "Matthew… I would not know what to say to him." "You don't need to say anything, just be there for him. You are his sister now, after all." "Very well, love." Morrigan paused, then whispered mischievously, "I do so wish we were alone together." Matthew laughed, and replied, "You don't wish it half as much as I." Laughing, the two lovers kissed, than Morrigan went to comfort her brother-in-law, while Matthew delved into a swamp of well-wishing politicians, and he would rather have faced the darkspawn hoard a thousand times.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Matthew crept through the tunnel that led to the pantry of Highever Castle, the very same tunnel that he had used to escape Arl Howe's betrayal just over a year ago. The memories of that night still caused him sadness, but now that he was back at his old home, still occupied by Amaranthine's troops, a different emotion coursed through him; rage. How dare his family's murderers lodge themselves in his home!

According to Zevran, who had infiltrated the castle some days before, the soldiers here had no idea that their Arl was dead and disowned. Alistair, however, was still hesitant to launch a frontal assault; if the soldiers chose to fight, than the Army of Fereldan would take horrendous damage; it was still battered from the Battle of Denerim. Therefore, Matthew suggested that he take a small group, infiltrate through this hidden entrance, than open the gates from within.

So far, everything was going to plan; he, Morrigan, Lelliana, and Zevran had slipped past the outer patrols and gotten to the tunnel without a hitch, and were now about to exit into the pantry. Matthew had tried to convince Morrigan to stay out of the fighting, for their child's sake, but he quickly discovered that he might as well tell the ocean to stop making waves.

Exiting into the pantry, the group took position on either side of the door. Slowly, Matthew eased the door open, and was immediately greeted with a very familiar shouting. "Will you all stop standing around, and actually do some work for a change!" Matthew could have cried with happiness; Nan. The old women was Highever's head cook and, further back, Matthew's nanny. Matthew, with his tendencies to bore easily, and saying exactly what was on his mind, had driven the poor women to near insanity, and by the time he had grown up, and Nan was transferred to cooking, she had acquired a nasty temper, and Matthew had the feeling that he was responsible for the many tongue lashings that the elven servants had received from her.

"Oh, come now, do you think the the teyrn's son wants to eat that measly peice of pork." At this, Matthew opened the door, looked at what was on the plate, and said, "Oh, I don't know. I've certainly had worse, Nan." The old women spun around, and, upon seeing who was speaking, clutched at her heart, and gripped the table for support. "My lord…" she finally spluttered. Matthew quickly placed a finger on his lips to silence her. "It's good to see you too, Nan, but please be quite. We would prefer to be stealthy for the time being."

"You must flee," Nan whispered. "Rendon Howe's son is here. Thomas is here, my lord. If he finds you, he will send you to his father, and who knows what that bastard will do to you." An uncharacteristic sadistic grin twisted Matthew's features. "Don't worry about Rendon, Nan. That traitor is dead; I killed him myself." Suddenly, Matthew remembered his past experiences with Thomas. Matthew, at his father Bryce's request, had tried very hard to like the Howes. The effort with Thomas lasted as long as the effort with his father, Rendon. Thomas was his sadistic, selfish father in miniature, though his own father had refused to see their true nature until it was too late. If he could rid the world of him, he would be doing everyone a favor.

Nan's eyebrows shot up. "You killed Rendon Howe?" Matthew nodded. "Then I guess I don't need to worry about you." "No, you don't." He paused, then continued, "Nan, get everyone into the pantry. The army is waiting for us to open the gates, and I don't want Fergus to get impatient. I'll explain everything later." Nan hesitated, than had the kitchen staff follow their rightful lord's instructions. Matthew and his group, in the meantime, left the kitchen and headed for the main gates.

When they rounded the last corner, however, he beheld a sight that chilled his blood; a semi-circle of Amaranthine soldiers stood with their backs to them, and trapped between them and the closed gates was an elf girl with dress that had been ripped at the shoulder; she couldn't have been older then fourteen. And standing over her, looking the spitting image of his father, was Thomas Howe, a sickening, sadistic smile on his face.

"Is he really so pathetic that he requires 20 armed men to _force_ women to go to bed with him?" Morrigan stated with a frankness that stunned him. "He is a Howe, Morrigan," Matthew spat. "It runs in his blood." He then turned to the two rogues in the group. "Zevran, Lelliana, go up the stairs, and open the gates. Morrigan, you're with me." The two pairs than went their separate ways; the rogues to the gate house, and the Couslands to would be rapist.

Drawing his fire-enchanted Summer Sword from his shoulder, Matthew shouted "THOMAS, leave that girl alone!" The Howe and his men turned to face their adversary, and Thomas, who looked surprised, then pleased by the newcomers, drawled "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Matthew Cousland, back to avenge his Orlesian-loving parents. And such fine company you keep," his eyes drifting to Morrigan, who was looking at him with the expression of one who was forced to use a public outhouse that no one ever seemed to clean. "After I hog tie you and send you to my father in Denerim, I will have fun with your companion."

Matthew's blood boiled, but he held his temper in check; the gates needed to be opened to let the army in, and he needed to distract Thomas from the gatehouse for that to happen. So instead, he grinned and said, "Unless you wish to have your favorite body parts frozen, I wouldn't suggest trying. And besides, I don't think your father will be torturing anyone ever again, unless a blood mage should stumble into the Arl of Denerim's estate." For the first time, Thomas hesitated. "What are you talking about?" "I infiltrated his estate in Denerim, and put him to the sword personally. Your bastard of a father is dead, Thomas! And his buddy, Teyrn Loghain! And Alistair, Marric's son, is king. Your family has been stripped of its lands and titles. And you are going to pay for the abuses you have heaped on the people of Highever; _MY _people!"

"You lie!" Thomas screamed. "You lie, you pathetic, Orlesian boot-licker!" Matthew reached into his pocket, pulled out Rendon Howe's bloody signet ring, and tossed it to Thomas. "Your father was the pathetic one, Thomas. He blamed the world for his own failings, betrayed everyone who trusted him, and when justice came for him, he tried to wiggle free. I didn't let him escape, and I won't let you, either." Thomas laughed then, and it was the laughter of a madman. "'Won't let me'. You and what army?"

At that moment, the gates unlocked, and swung outward, and the Army of Fereldan, led by King Alistair and Teyrn Bryce Cousland, rose up and charged, screaming war cries to the heavens. "This army!" Matthew screamed, and he charged the group. Behind him, Morrigan conjured a Chain Lightning spell that killed 10 of the men in front of them. At the same time, Lelliana started firing arrows from the battlements, and Zevran leapt down to fight hand-to-hand, and the entire group was disposed of within seconds.

Thomas and Matthew engaged in a one-on-one duel in the courtyard. Neither could seem to gain the advantage; Thomas, fighting with dual daggers, was too fast and agile for Matthew to hit with a killing blow, but Matthew had such large reach with his greatsword that Thomas could not get close enough to inflict injury either. Finally, Thomas managed to hobble Matthew by kicking him in the leg, and sending him to the ground. He then jumped into the air, intending to jam his daggers into the Hero of Fereldan's back, confident that the Cousland was helpless before him.

Matthew, however, had a habit of surprising people. Coming into the kneeling position, he took his sword, and, driving the flaming blade upward, skewered Thomas Howe in midair. Thomas convulsed once, than lost consciousness as blood poured out of his descending aorta. Within a minute, he was dead.

Matthew let the Howe's corpse slide from his blade onto the ground just as Bryce, Alistair, and the first of Fereldan's troops came through the gate, and began spreading throughout the castle, killing all the soldiers who resisted them. Upon finding the castle swarming with hostile troops, and their leader dead, most surrendered before they were sure what was happening, and within a half-an-hour, Highever Castle was back in Cousland hands.

_Two hours latter….._

Morrigan walked through the streets of Highever Castle, trying to wipe the blood from her sword. During their travels, Morrigan had become interested in swordplay, and had asked Matthew to teach her. She regretted the request almost immediately; Matthew had defeated her so easily it looked pathetic, and she had not continued the lessons until they had discovered the essence of an ancient elf, who had taught her how to become an Arcane Warrior, channeling her magical power to increase her martial might. Later, and the Temple of Andraste, they had found an ancient elven sword, especially constructed for Arcane Warriors. It was this blade, and these powers, she now wielded with deadly results, fighting with her love, side-by-side.

_That is, when I can find him, _Morrigan thought bitterly. After the castle had been reclaimed, Morrigan expected to find him discussing noble-like things with his brother and his fool of a friend, Alistair, but they claimed not to have seen him either; which brought her back to her search. Walking into the kitchen, she noticed the pantry door was ajar, and she could hear faint sobs. She knew now where her love was, and why.

Walking into the pantry, she saw Matthew kneeling on the floor, his head in his hands, crying. She recalled that this was the room he had been forced to leave his parents behind in, and wondered how he could have brought himself come back into the castle by the same route. Walking up to him she placed a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked up at her, whispered "I'm sorry." She then knelt beside him, and grieved together. Then, when the sun had set, got up, and walked together to Matthew's old room, laid down on the bed, and went to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**The banter between the Cousland brothers was inspired by TheEvilDog's ****Duty and Honour**

**Speaking of which, TheEvilDog, it has been a month since you last updated that story. Where is the next chapter? I am beginning to lose my patience! **

Chapter 6

_One month later…_

Matthew had spent the day fighting in mock combat with numerous new recruits; the past month had been spent rebuilding Highever Castle, as well as its army. Currently, he was facing 5 brothers, whose armor and weapons ranged from leather and daggers to plate and greatswords. The brothers spread out and walked to the sides like crabs, trying to encircle him. He knew he had to take a few out before that happened; he might be an excellent fighter, but he didn't have eyes in the back of his head.

With a swiftness that stunned the recruits, he lashed out and struck two lightly armored fighters before they could defend themselves. Both fell to the ground, one with a throbbing head, and the other with bruised ribs. He heard a third brother, armored in heavy chain mail, run up behind him, intending to hit Matthew in the head with his wooden war hammer. Altering his grip so that the blade of his wooden training sword would be pointing downward, Matthew stabbed the blade under his left arm, and felt it connect with the recruit's abdomen. He fell to the ground, his breath knocked out.

Matthew than turned to the two remaining brothers. Both were armored in steel plate, but one was armed with a greatsword, while the other the other wielded a sword and shield. Now, Matthew, with his medium-weight chainmail armor, held the advantage of speed and maneuverability. Quickly, he ran up to the greatsword wielding recruit, and struck his blade against his opponent's, trapping the swords between them. He then kicked the man between his legs, smashed his sword's pommel into his face, and finally striking him in the helmet with his blade.

Turning to the final recruit, he swung the wooden sword in an overhead chop that cut into the recruit's wicker shield, and, giving the sword a mighty yank, throw both the weapon and the shield to the ground, and causing the recruit to stumble forward. With astounding reflexes, he pulled a small knife from his belt, and brought it up to the gap in the recruit's neck armor; had he continued the blow, he would have slit the man's throat.

Matthew paused, then laughed, and released his captive. "It was a good idea, trying to surround me. However, don't expect an enemy to stand there, and let it happen. They _will_ fight to get out." The four other soldiers started to get up, groaning as they did so. The one who Matthew had kicked looked somewhat green. "That wasn't fair, ser," he said in a hollow voice. Matthew just smiled. "If you want to survive a battle, soldier, than you had best drop the word "fair" from your vocabulary, at least while you're fighting." "Yes, ser," all 5 brothers shouted, then turned and limped off the training field.

Matthew turned, and walked off in the opposite direction, where he found his wife and brother watching him. With a humorous gleam in her eye, Morrigan walked up and kissed him, then said, "It never ceases to amaze me that so many of these fools insist on fighting you, love. One would think that they would keep their distance, given that you have killed the Archdemon, among so many other dangerous foes." "I think that is just it, Morrigan," Matthew replied. "They all want to be the one who bested the Hero of Fereldan. And they all wind up like that bunch."

Fergus, deciding to have some fun, and being one of two people in Fereldan who were allowed to tease Matthew, then commented, "Yes, it was a very impressive display, Matthew. But you're putting too much weight on one foot, and that stunt with the shield left you practically defenseless." Matthew, not to be outdone, shot back with, "At least I have some inkling as to how to use a sword, Fergus. You, on the other hand, still hold it by the wrong end." Fergus's eyes then widened in mock horror. "You mean I'm not supposed to do this?" He pulled his sword from its sheath, and spun it around, so that he was holding it by the end of the blade. "You have undone my world with this revelation, brother. How will you sleep at night?" Both brothers began laughing until tears formed in their eyes.

When they finally recovered from their merriment, Morrigan was shaking her head in disbelief. "I have always wondered why Matthew insisted on being such a fool at all hours of the day, and now I know why; such a trait seems to run in the Cousland family." "That it does, Morrigan, that it does," Fergus replied. "Now, if you will excuse me, I promised the grand cleric that I would here out some of her complaints." "What about," Matthew asked. "I'm not sure. Likely, she will scold me because I allowed my younger brother to marry an apostate, and tainting our line with magic." Fergus stopped, and shock his head. "As if I, or anyone else, could have stopped you." And with that, he began to make his way to the chantry.

Morrigan then shifted to her lover's side, and wrapped her arms around him. "He seems to be recovering rather well." "Yes." Matthew said, sobering up immediately. "I think being back home has helped him. Or the necklace; I always healed faster when I was wearing it." "Hmmm," Morrigan hummed. They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, before Morrigan turned to him, and, with a sultry smile on her face, purred, "So, do you wish to retire to our room." Matthew groaned; they had had this discussion before. "I've told you before Morrigan, I am not laying with you while you are with child; it is just not right." "Very well," Morrigan sighed. "You will not resist forever; and you must go to sleep at some point."

Just then, an elf ran up to the couple, and said, "My lord, King Alistair is here in the castle." "Oh, Fergus will be pleased," Matthew said. "We can save him from being chewed up by the grand cleric." "Actually, my lord," the elf continued, "he said, and I quote, 'I need to see the Hero of Fereldan, and his personal desire demon.'" Matthew burst out laughing; none of his companions had been on good terms with Morrigan, but Alistair and the Witch of the Wilds had been at each other's throats from day one. "Very well, we'll be right there." He then flipped the messenger a silver coin. "Thank you, ser," he exclaimed, and ran off to finish his rounds.

"And now the fool must leave his palace, come here, and ruin such a beautiful day," Morrigan complained. "Why did you ever make that dunce king?" "I made him king because it was either him, or that spoiled, power-hungry, traitorous _bitch,_ Anora." Matthew had rescued the former Queen of Fereldan from Arl Rendon Howe's clutches after he had assassinated the traitor, but, at the Landsmeet, when Matthew made it clear he would support Alistair for the throne, Anora had turned on them, and denounced them. It still had not been enough to stop them, though; after revealing that Loghain had been harboring blood mages, selling elves into slavery, and had tried to poison Arl Eamon, the majority of the lords had thrown in with the rebels, and Loghain and Anora were voted out of power.

"Ah, yes. Well, let us go and meet with his majesty." Morrigan said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. Laughing, Matthew put his arm around her, called "Come on, Gleadr", and began walking towards the great hall, his love by his side, and his war hound at his heels.

_A few minutes later…_

The trio walked into the hall to find the King of Fereldan standing before the fire. He looked very handsome and intimidating, given that he was garbed in golden steel armor, and he had a large shield and a finely crafted silvirite sword on his back. Upon seeing them, he gave them his signature grin. "It's great to see you, Matthew, Gleadr. Demon." "Oh, would you look at that, love. The fool is trying to make a joke," Morrigan said in a mockingly sweet tone of voice, as if speaking of a small child's first steps. "On the contrary, Morrigan, I have made a truly excellent joke; you simply lack the brain power to understand its brilliance." "If I could get this back on track," Matthew quickly stepped in, "what brought you out here, Alistair."

Alistair sighed, then, the air of breaking extremely bad news, said, "Matthew, there are two Grey Wardens in all of Fereldan, and they are both standing right here. We need to change that and quickly. For some reason, the darkspawn haven't all gone back into the deep roads; some have gathered in war bands, and they are ripping the Arling of Amaranthine to shreds. We need to rebuild the Wardens here in Fereldan, and since I have the responsibility of ruling Fereldan, thanks to you, I was hoping that you would become Warden-Commander of Fereldan."

Matthew almost groaned; he had been through hell in the past year, and had looked forward to a nice, peaceful time helping Fergus rebuild Highever, and getting ready to be a father, and he was in no hurry to jump back into the flames. Scrambling to get out of this mess, he asked, "Why not ask the Wardens from Orlais, or the Free Marches, to come." "Fereldans hate Orliasians, in case you have forgotten that Matthew. And while I have asked the Warden's in the Free Marches to come, the knight-commander of Kirkwall, Meredith Stannard, refused to allow them to leave, claiming they were helping blood mages escape the Chantry's justice." "TEMPLERS!" Matthew shouted, making the word sound like the world's greatest curse. "Templers," Alistair agreed, though he merely sounded annoyed.

"Alright, fine. I'll become Warden-Commander." Alistair laughed. "You sound so pleased about it. Oh, and since you'll be Warden-Commander, that also makes you the Arl of Amaranthine; you'll be the ruler of the Arling, and you will have a full voice in the Landsmeet." Matthew started, than started laughing hysterically. "Imagine," he managed to sputter out, "Rendon Howe's face if he knew that, when he betrayed my family, it would end with me holding his title." Morrigan and Alistair paused, then they too burst into laughter, and even Gleadr barked happily with them.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Warden-Commander Matthew Cousland walked down the path that led to Vigil's Keep, were he would take up his duties in rebuilding the Grey Wardens in Fereldan, and ruling the Arling of Amaranthine. With him was a warden recruit, by the name of Mhairi, and Morrigan. When his wife had come up to him after their meeting with Alistair and said she was going to Amaranthine with him, he had not even bothered to argue, simply requesting that she start wearing armor, which she had. Gleadr, his mabari, was not with them; Matthew had ordered him to keep Fergus company at Highever while he was in Amaranthine.

Matthew was relieved that their trip was about to end. It had been a long walk, and it had started to rain. They were all looking forward to getting to the keep, and drying themselves off. Finally, rounding a bend in the road, they saw Vigil's Keep not far away. While Morrigan and Mhairi both looked relieved, Matthew was unsettled; he had expected that the dozen Wardens sent from Orlais would be waiting for him, but they were nowhere to be seen. As they got closer to the gates, he felt the mental itch that alerted him to any living thing that carried the taint, and it was far too strong to be a dozen wardens who had not fully succumbed to the taint. He motioned for Morrigan and Mhairi to stop; something was very wrong here.

"Commander," Mhairi shouted, drawing her sword and shield. Matthew had seen it too; a single soldier ran out of the gates, chased by four Genlocks. Matthew and Morrigan also drew their blades, and each of the trio engaged a Genlock. The soldier, seeing that he was no longer alone, turned and attacked the first darkspawn chasing him. Matthew swung the Summer Sword in a horizontal cut, and slashed a Genlock's throat, cutting the coradid artery, jugular vein, and trachea, and the enchanted flames cauterized the cut. The darkspawn fell clutching its bloodless wound. Tuning, he saw Mhairi spin around and decapitate her opponent, Morrigan conjuring a stream of flame from her hand that engulfed her darkspawn's head, and it fell, its brain cooked.

Hearing a series of sickening, wet thuds, Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw the soldier they had saved repeatedly smashing his mace into a fallen Genlock's head. Finally stopping, he turned, looked at Matthew, and promptly laughed with relief. "It's you! The Hero of Fereldan! Oh, thank the Maker!" "What happened here, soldier?" "I don't rightly know, sir. Everything was quite one moment, than there were darkspawn everywhere." "Where are the other warden's?" "I'm not sure, my lord. They were all in the keep." Matthew nodded, than ordered "Get on the road, and find some reinforcements. We are going to need them."

"We don't have a lot of time commander." Mhairi said, "We need to get to the keep." "Darkspawn launching a surprise attack. This is unheard of," Matthew muttered to himself. "It matters not, love," Morrigan replied, wiping the darkspawn blood from her sword. "If they stand against us, they will fall." Nodding at his love's usual appraisal of their foes, he hefted his flaming blade, and ran through the open gates, and found a melee within the first courtyard. After the last of the darkspawn were killed, Matthew rallied the surviving troops, than led them into the keep to reclaim it.

As they entered the keep's gates, a group of shrieks emerged from the shadows, and began slashing at them with the blades attached to their arms. Swinging his sword down, Matthew chopped a Shrieks arms off, rendering it unable to fight, then stabbed it through the heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morrigan nimbly parrying another shriek's blades, than she kicked it in the gut, and impaled its head. Then, he saw Mhairi was in trouble; a Hurlock had struck her in the side, and though the armor held against the blade, it had knocked her to the ground, and she had lost her sword; the darkspawn raised its sword for a killing blow. Too far away to block the blow, Matthew drew a knife from his belt and launched it at the Hurlock; it struck the Hurlock in what passed for its ear, and it fell without a sound.

Mhairi stood up, shacking. "Thank…thank you Commander," she stuttered. "Are you alright Mhairi? Maybe you should stay back." "No!" Mhairi shouted; she looked slightly angry at Matthew's suggestion. "I can help you, I'll prove it!" And with that she ran up the stairs to their right. "She is a fine warrior, and is willing to speak her mind," Morrigan commented. "She will make a fine warden." Matthew pretended to act surprised. "Are you offering a compliment to someone, Morrigan! I'll have to mark this day on my callender." "Fool," Morrigan replied, than the two love birds followed Mhairi up the stairs. Stopping at the first door, the trio halted for a moment, than Matthew kicked the door in.

What was waiting for them on the other side, none of them were prepared for. Instead of a group of darkspawn, they saw a large, fair-haired man in mage ropes, currently scorching a darkspawn to a crisp. He was surrounded by a dozen more darkspawn, and, Matthew noted with grim satisfaction, two templers. Clearly, the man was a mage who had been captured by the templers, and had used the attack to break lose. Then, caution entered Matthew's thoughts; it was possible that this man was a blood mage, mages who used blood to power their spells. Such mages could summon demons, control minds, and could even use the blood of other people, so they did not have to tap their own life forces to work magic. While Matthew was adamant that the Chantry should not imprison mages for their gifts, he was also aware of just how powerful and evil blood mages could become. If this mage practiced these arts, he could not be allowed the escape he sought.

Having sufficiently roasted the Hurlock he was facing, the mage ended the spell, then began hopping up and down and shook his hands, as if he was trying to cool them off, though Matthew knew from having traveled with Morrigan for more than a year the conjured flames could not have harmed him. And he looked so ridiculous that Matthew started chuckling under his breath.

Hearing the laughter, the mage turned to his onlookers. He stared at them, than at the fallen Templers, then back at them, and said in an unconvincing voice, "Ah, I didn't do it." Suddenly, a humorous gleam came into his eyes, and he continued, "Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not particularly broken up about them dying, to be honest. Biff here made the funniest gurgle when he went down." In too serious a mindset to laugh at the mages sympathy, or lack thereof, Matthew inspected the bodies of the Templers. They all had numerous stab wounds and lacerations, consistent with a darkspawn attack; this mage had not killed them, and he didn't seem like the type of person who would use blood magic. Matthew relaxed a little.

"Not too fond of them, huh," Matthew said to the mage. "Who are you supposed to be?" "I am Anders, at your service. Mage, and wanted apostate." "Ah, we finally meet a mage who is determined to live free of the Chantry's slavery," Morrigan commented. "'Tis such a relief." Anders started smirking. "Well, if the male mages at the tower knew that a women as lovely as yourself existed out in the world, they would stop at nothing to get out." "And he is a fool," Morrigan sighed, obviously disappointed. "But he is a fool who is trying to be free, and that is more than I can say for most people."

Now smiling, Matthew asked Anders, "Where were these Templers taking you?" "They were just stopping here on our way back to the tower. 'Just a short rest,' they said. And now they're dead. It's a shame, really." Matthew was, at this point, completely certain Anders was not a blood mage. However, he needed all the help that they could get, so he asked, "Would you care to give us a hand with these darkspawn?" "Hmm, alright, I'll help. We can discuss what comes later…later. Once all these bastards are properly put down." Chuckling, Matthew again drew the Summer Sword, and headed down the next hallway, Morrigan, Mhairi, and Anders close behind.

After clearing two more rooms of darkspawn, saving several of the keep's staff, and nearly being blown up by an insane dwarfs explosives, the group passed through a hallway to a third room. Before they could open the door, however, they heard the sounds of fighting, and innumerable curses being shouted in a voice that Matthew knew only too well. _No way_, Matthew thought. _There is no way HE can be HERE!_ But, sure enough, when he swung the door open, he was presented with a small group of darkspawn. And before the group, armed with a massive axe, and armored in a set of Legion of the Dead armor, stood Oghren the dwarf.

Hearing the newcomers, Oghren turned, saw Matthew and immediately waved hello to him. Then, quick as a flash, he cut down a Genlock that charged him. Quickly entering the fray, Matthew and his companions made quick work of the darkspawn. Once the monsters were vanquished, Oghren slung his axe across his back, and turned to his old leader and, laughing, said, "Ah ha! There you are! When these darkspawn showed up, I thought, 'Just wait until the new commander gets here, and you'll all be spitting teeth out of your arses!' I followed the screaming, and sure enough, here you are. Good on ya!" "No!" Morrigan moaned. "Not that drunken ass of dwarven warrior AGAIN!" Laughing, both at his love's comment and his old friend's reappearance, Matthew asked, "Oghren, is that really you?" "Doubting your eyes, huh? I get like that, after the fifth bottle or so."

"I came here thinking I might try my hand at becoming a bone fide Grey Warden." "He was here when I left," Mhairi commented, disgust evident on her face, as well as Morrigan's. "I can't believe the Warden's didn't kick him out." Noticing her, Oghren said, "Well, hey, if it isn't the recruit with the great rack!" "Yes, a prize for the Wardens to be sure," Mhairi continued, sarcasm filling every syllable. "I know, I know, too good to be true," Oghren continued. "Hey, who's the mage, your boyfriend? Should I leave you two alone?" Oghren raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Hey," Anders chimed in, "a dwarf that smells like a brewery! You don't see those _anywhere!"_ "A mage comedian;" Oghren grumbled. " I thought those normally died young."

Matthew, meanwhile, had gone into panic mode. The Joining, the ceremony where recruits drank magically enhanced darspawn blood, in order to obtain the taint without killing themselves, was often fatal. Oghren had regularly made an ass of himself, but Matthew still considered him a friend, and would never wish death upon him. Not to mention that had a wife and son; what would happen to them if Oghren died? "Oghren," Matthew quickly said, trying to persuade Oghren away from this course of action, "there are risks to becoming a Grey Warden." "Bah, there are risks to getting out of bed in the morning. I piss on risk." "I'm sure 'risk' appreciates it," Anders muttered. "We can talk about this later," Oghren growled. "Right now, there are darkspawn about that are in sore need of a beheading!"

Matthew nodded, than they continued into the next hallway, where they found a badly injured human soldier leaning against the wall. "Rowland!" Mhairi shouted, running up to her fallen comrade. "Commander, Rowland was a knight in Denerim who had been recruited, like me; we must do something for him!" They all looked at Anders, who shook his head sadly. "He looks beyond magical healing." He paused, then added halfheartedly, "maybe a shot of whiskey for the pain?" "I like the way you think," Oghren commented. "Stop joking!" Mhairi shouted, clearly beside herself. "This isn't funny!" "Commander?" Rowland rasped. "I'm here, Rowland," Matthew replied to the dying man. "I wish I had gotten here sooner." "We… only had a moments warning, Commander. They came out of nowhere. Their leader…Commander, their leader is a darkspawn that TALKS!"

Matthew felt his heart skip a beat; a talking darkspawn! If the monsters were getting this intelligent, and were organizing attacks without an archdemon, it was very bad news for everyone. "Bah," Oghren scoffed, "a talking darkspawn. The lad must be delirious." Matthew wanted to believe him, but couldn't quite manage it. Suddently, Rowland gasped. "There's something in my blood! It hurts!" Knowing he had little time left, Matthew quickly asked "Where is the talking darkspawn?" "He went that way," Rowland wheezed, "after the….seneschal." And with a last gasp, Rowland died. Mhairi bowed her head, and whispered, "I will avenge you, Rowland; I swear it."

Matthew and his motley collection of followers charged into the next room, and began fighting the darkspawn that had heard their fellows engaging Oghren. There were many, but they seem to melt away; Oghren split a Genlock's head in half, Matthew slashed the Hurlock Alpha leading the charge from its left shoulder to its opposite hip, spilling the contents of its chest and abdominal cavities on the ground, Mhairi struck a Hurlock mage in its temple with the corner of her shield, crushing the right side of its skull, Anders healed any wounds the darkspawn inflicted on them, and Morrigan impaled a Hurlock through its heart, then sending bolts of lightning out of the lyrium-infused blade's tip, electrocuted three more darkspawn before they could reach them.

Finally, the five fighters managed to make it to the battlements. Running around a corner, they saw a group of seven darkspawn, one of which held a sword to a grey-haired man's throat. _That must be seneschal Varel . _"Others will come, creature. They will stop you." Hearing the group approaching, the darkspawn turned. The largest Hurlock, a heavily armored emissary, looked at Matthew, then said, "It seems your words be true. More than you are guessing."

Matthew had heard Rowland when he said there was a talking darkspawn, but that didn't prepare him for this! The monster could speak! Its grammar was atrocious, but it could speak.

"It IS talking!" Anders exclaimed; he sounded delighted. "Well," Oghren growled, "let's shut it up already!" The talking darkspawn turned to its comrades, and ordered, "Capture the Grey Warden. These others, they may be killed." And with that, the battle was joined once again.

Matthew impaled two Hurlocks on his blade, shoved them off, and charged the speaking Hurlock; he saw that it was beginning to conjure a spell. Forced to abandon its magical attack, the emissary drew its shield and dagger from its back. The blade was unlike anything Matthew had ever seen; it was shaped like a crescent moon. Matthew quickly began slashing at the Hurlock; it was quite a bit larger than him, and he needed to kill it quickly, before it wore him down. After dodging, blocking, and parrying several of Matthew's blows, the Warden-Commander managed to slash the darkspawn's shield arm, causing it to drop the crudely fashioned hunk of steel.

Hissing in pain and rage, the darkspawn caught Matthew's next blow in the curve of his dagger, and, twisting his wrist, ripped the Summer Sword from his grasp. Next, the emissary lifted the dagger above his head, intending to knock the defenseless Warden out. Suddenly, a slim, curved silverite blade that gave off discharges of electricity sprouted from the darkspawn's chest, and it fell to the ground. In its place stood Morrigan, her light chain main and her sword covered with black blood, looking for all the world like a goddess of war. And she was livid.

After dragging him to his feet, she slapped him, and yelled, "YOU FOOL! Why must you always run directly at the most dangerous enemy in sight, without any heed as to whether you need assistance or not!" "Because," Matthew calmly replied, taking her face in his hands and kissing both her checks, "I know that you will always be there to pull me back when I go too far, and that you will chew me out for it." Morrigan struggled not to smile, and quickly lost. "Fool," she said again, though with no real conviction.

Seneschal Varel stood, walked over to the couple, and said, "Commander, I owe you my life." He seemed ready to continue, but something on the road caught his eye, and he walked over to the battlements. Matthew and Morrigan followed. "Hm, soldiers are on the road. It seems we have more company. Hopefully they're more hospitable then our previous guests." "Knowing my luck, I wouldn't count on it, seneschal." Varel, and everyone else laughed at the comment, than they all turned around to greet whoever was coming to Vigil's Keep. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The victorious group descended back through the battle-ravaged keep, then toward the front gate. The group of warriors were now close enough for Matthew to see the symbols on their chest plates, and when he did, his blood boiled; Templers. He suddenly had a massive urge to tell the remaining archers on the ramparts to open fire. Before he completely lost his head and ordered the men to do so, however, he noticed that one member of the group was armored in different armor then the Templers. Squinting, he tried to make out the man's face.

With a shock, he realized that it was Alistair, and that he had almost ordered an attack on Fereldan's King.

"Oh, what can the fool possibly want now?" Morrigan's angry ranting brought him back down to earth. "Has he not intervened in our lives enough? Why does he not simply go back to his estate and lord over those below him? I'm sorry, I meant above him." "Watch your tone, apostate," Seneschal Varel growled, "You speak of our king." Morrigan opened her mouth to respond, but Matthew beat her to it. "And I suggest that _you_ watch your tone, Seneschal; you speak to your Arlessa." Varel started, and then muttered, "My apologies, Commander." "It's alright, Varel," Matthew said, his tone lightening, "My wife does need to learn when to keep her mouth shut." This earned him a slap from Morrigan. Laughing, he turned back to his visitors.

By this time, Alistair and his former holy brothers in arms had passed through the gate, and into the fortresses courtyard. Matthew, Mhairi, and Varel immediately kneeled before him. Morrigan, of course, stayed upright. "It looks like I've arrived too late. Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn killing thing." He paused, then continued, "I had wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome; I certainly wasn't expecting this." Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew saw the lead templar, a women without a helmet, start fidgeting, as if she needed to be elsewhere in a hurry. Hiding a smile at this, Matthew refocused on his kings words.

"What's the situation?" Alistair asked Varel. "What darkspawn remained have fled, your majesty," Varel answered. "The Grey Wardens sent from Orlais to help us rebuild the order appear to be either dead…or missing." "Missing?" Alistair repeated; his eyebrows rose in surprise. "As in, taken by the darkspawn. Do they even take prisoners?" "I do not know, your Majesty. I know only that we cannot account for all the Wardens." "I see," Alistair replied, turning to Matthew. "At least the Hero of Fereldan is still here, and alive. That's something, right." "Try not to look too disappointed, Alistair." Matthew joked. Alistair laughed, and then turned serious again.

"You have quite the task ahead of you. I'd like to help you fight the darkspawn, but as I'm too busy ruling a country, that means you're on your own, for now." "Hey," Oghren shouted, looking indignant. "What am I, chopped nug livers?" "From the smell, that's not a bad guess," Anders commented, causing everyone except the Templers to laugh. Oghren continued, "I came here to join the Grey Wardens, and from the looks of it, you could use the extra hands. Now, where's the giant cup; I'll gargle and spit!" With a mental sigh, Matthew acknowledged that, come hell or high water, Oghren was going to go through on his decision. Turning, Matthew said, "You are NOT allowed to spit." Oghren laughed. "That's what I always say." Matthew missed whatever Mhairi and Anders said, as he was too busy trying to repress a host of highly unpleasant mental images Oghren's perverted thought process had conjured up in his head.

Finally, the female templar lost her patients. "King Alistair! Your Majesty, beware; this man is a dangerous fugitive!" Alistair looked at the templar like she had grown an extra head. "Oh, the dwarf's a bit of an ass, but he isn't-" "She means me." Anders interrupted. "This is an apostate that we in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice." The templar commander said, a look of hate and disgust on her face as she regarded Anders. "Oh, please," Anders scoffed. "The things you templars know about justice would fit into a thimble." _You tell 'em, Anders,_ Matthew thought, utilizing all his self control to keep himself from saying the words out loud. "Enough," the Templar shouted. "I'll see you hang for what you've done here, you murderer!"

In a flash, Matthew remembered the two Templers who had been killed in the darkspawn attack on the keep; these templers must believe that Anders killed them. _Of course they do; who or what else would harm the wonderful, lyrium-addled holy warriors. _Anders protested for a moment, and then gave in, muttering about how they wouldn't believe him even if he said he was innocent. "Well, I guess there isn't anything else to say," Alistair commented sadly, and then a humorous gleam lit his eyes. "Unless, of course, you have anything to add commander?"

It took a moment for Matthew to grasp Alistair's meaning, but when he did, he couldn't keep himself from smiling. "I do." He turned to the female templar, drew himself up to his full height, and proclaimed "As Warden Commander of Fereldan, I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription. I remove this apostate into the care of the Grey Wardens; he will undergo the joining, and will fight the darkspawn within Fereldan."

The Templar looked as if her birthday had been cancelled. "WHAT! NEVER!" She turned to Alistair, and shouted, "Your Majesty, you cannot allow this apostate to escape us; you cannot allow an Arl to place himself above you and the Maker." Alistair looked at her, and said, in a falsely sad voice, "I'm sorry, ser, but he has not acted as the Arl of Amaranthine, but as Warden Commander of Fereldan; I cannot overturn his discussion to invoke the Right of Conscription." Matthew, who had travelled with Alistair for over a year now, could read his body language enough to know that Alistair also meant, _nor do I want to._

Eyes narrowed with fury, the female templar turned, and marched out of the fortress, the rest of the templers following her, leaving only two Fereldan royal guards with Alistair, who turned to Matthew and said, "Look, I know that you're a bit short-handed here, but this is all you've got. You have to defend the Arling from the darkspawn, and rebuild the Fereldan Grey Wardens. I wish I could offer more aid, but the entire country looks like this right now, so I hope that you can make do with what you have at hand." "Have some faith, Alistair," Matthew replied, with his usual grin. "I assembled an army, ended a civil war, and defeated a Bight with little more than 8 friends and a large dog at my back; with this Arling, I'll probably conquer Orlais, Nevarra, and the Free Marches."

Laughing, Alistair said, "I believe you. Good luck, my friend." And with that, he turned, and began the walk back to Denerim.

_One hour later…_

"Before we do anything else commander," Varel said in the throne room of Vigil's Keep, "there is an urgent matter we must take care of. Right now, I know of only one living Warden assigned to all of Fereldan. That should be rectified." "Right," Matthew replied, "We had best see to it. Prepare the ritual, I'll see to the recruits."

After the darkspawn blood was prepared, Oghren, Anders, and Mhairi lined up before Warden-Commander Matthew Cousland, and Seneschal Varel; Morrigan stood off to the side, watching the ritual take place. She had never seen a Joining before, and had insisted that she attend this one, despite Matthew's protests.

Morrigan was jolted from her daydreaming when Matthew stepped toward the recruits, and recited the words that had been said since the very first Joining, during the first Blight:

"_Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows as we stand vigilant; join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, __**we**__ will join __**you**__."_

The first to drink of the foul concoction was the equally foul dwarf, Oghren. Upon being handed the goblet of darkspawn blood, he turned up his nose, and said, "What's this? The sampler size? Are you trying to say something about my HEIGHT!" Varel muttered, "This is the goblet we've always used." Oghren grumbled, and then downed the blood. Most new recruits eye's rolled back into their heads, and then passed out, but Oghren merely smacked his lips and murmured, "Not bad." "Uhg," Varel said. "Maker help us all."

Next was Anders, the fool apostate. Appearing apprehensive, said that if he woke up on a slaver's ship that he would blame the lot of them, and then drank the blood. His eyes rolled up, he swayed on his feet, and fell to the floor with a thud. Varel ran over to him, checked his pulse, and reported that Anders would survive.

Finally, it was Mhairi's turn. Taking the cup, she whispered, "I have awaited this moment," and drank.

Suddenly, she began convulsing horribly, and fell to her hands and knees, clutching her throat. Retching, she vomited across the floor, and began coughing horribly. Finally, she fell to the ground, and, with a few final twitches, she died.

Morrigan stared at the former knight's corpse in horror. She rarely cared about the welfare of others, and before she met Matthew, she had cared at all, but this was different. Morrigan now understood why her love had been so reluctant to allow Oghren, his friend, to join the Wardens; no one deserved such a fate.

"I'm so sorry, Mhairi." Morrigan heard her husband say. "May the Maker watch over you." Varel added.


	9. Chapter 9

Inseparable Chapter 9

_2 weeks later…._

Matthew, Morrigan, Oghren, and Anders all marched through the gates into the City of Amaranthine, the center of the Arling, and one Fereldan's most prosperous cities. They were not alone, however; with them, armored in leather, with a longbow on his back, was one Nathaniel Howe, Rendon Howe's son and Thomas's brother, whose gaze of hatred had never left Matthew for the entire trip. Matthew did not feel surprised by this however; Nathaniel had returned from the Free Marches to the Arling in the aftermath of the Blight, to find his family slaughtered, his name disgraced, and Matthew Cousland, the man who had killed his father and brother ruling what were once his family's lands. In a rage, Nathaniel had infiltrated Vigil's Keep with the intention of killing Matthew, though he claimed that once he was there, he changed his goals to gathering some of his family's belongings, claiming Matthew's death would have changed nothing. Fortunately, Nathaniel had been caught, though it took four guards to subdue him.

While he was tempted to hang Nathaniel and erase the Howe name forever, Matthew decided to try and find out exactly what Nathaniel knew about his father's plot, in case he was innocent. He was very glad that he did; Nathaniel had no part in attack on Highever Castle, nor did he have any knowledge of his father's plans. This, a sudden feeling that the Howe name was worth preserving and redeeming, and the fact that Nathaniel was an excellent scout, spy, and archer, all contributed to Matthew's decision on what to do with him. Matthew smiled as he recalled the moment he announced Nathaniel's sentence…

_Matthew stood leaning against the wall, Morrigan at his left hand, and Nathaniel slouched against the wall of his cell. Matthew had never seen such different facial expressions on different people in the same place; Nathaniel looked disgusted and enraged, Matthew was smiling slightly, looking amused, and Morrigan glared at Nathaniel, an expression of utmost fury on her face. When Nathaniel had revealed he was planning to kill Matthew, she had drawn her sword, Spellweaver, and had tried to decapitate the man. Matthew had managed to stop her, but her wolf-like eyes had never left Nathaniel, and her hand never left her blade's handle._

_Finally, Seneschal Varel entered the dungeon."Ah, Commander, I am told you have decided what to do with our prisoner." "I have, Varel. Were you aware that this man is Nathaniel __**Howe**__?" Varel shook his head. "I did not, Commander, but I am not surprised; the Howes are implacable enemies." Nathaniel smirked at that comment. "Have you decided what is to be done with him?" "I have." Matthew smiled. "I wish to invoke the Right of Conscription." _

_Everyone in the room looked at Matthew as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "YOU WHAT!" Nathaniel shouted. "I'm sorry Commander," Varel stammered, "the Right of Conscription?" "No," Nathaniel spoke up, "Absolutely not. Hang me first!" Matthew glared at him, and growled, "Did I say I was giving you a choice, Nathaniel." Nathaniel started, and then muttered, "Is this a vote of confidence, or a punishment," mostly to himself. _

"_An…. Interesting solution, Commander," Varel said. He turned to Nathaniel, and said, "Come with me, ser. We'll see if you survive the Joining." Varel escorted Nathaniel out of the dungeon. Matthew was about to follow, when suddenly Morrigan came up to him, took off his helmet, and began running her fingers through his hair, as if searching for something. "What are you doing, love?" "I'm checking to see if the head injury you suffered at Ostagar is, in fact, healed." Morrigan was extremely perturbed. "The evidence suggests that my mother worsened the wound." Laughing, Matthew rapped his arm around Morrigan's waist, noticing that it had acquired a slight bulge, and led his love out of the dungeon. _

Matthew was drawn out of his daydreaming by Anders striking up a conversation with Nathaniel. "So, Nathaniel, I understand that you are a Howe." "Another person who despises my family, I see." Nathaniel spat, turning his glare on Anders. Anders spread out his hands. "No no no, Nathaniel, I like the Howes. I also like the Whos, the Whens, and the Whats." "How clever," Nathaniel muttered. "Yes, it is shameful how long it took me to come up with that. Isn't that right, Ser Pounce-a-lot." He cooed to the kitten he carried in one of the pockets in his robe, which meowed at him.

"Isn't that name a little ridiculous?" Nathaniel asked, his tone indicating exasperation. "What," Anders demanded, "Do you think I should call him Fredrick? Or maybe "Meowspawn"?" "There are worse names, I suppose." "Meow!" Chuckling at the banter, Matthew refocused on the reason why they were in the city; to question the merchant's guild on the attacks that were taking place in the Wending Wood.

The Arling was, economically, in a very deep rut. None of the merchants or traders were getting passed the Wending Wood, which the main road between Amaranthine and Denerim ran through. Because of this, the treasury was completely empty, with nothing to repair the Keep, let alone prepare the Arling for all out war with the remnants of the blight. The dwarven stonemason, Voldrik Glavonak, had requested 80 sovereigns in order to repair the fortress adequately. Matthew had provided the money, but it had annihilated his own funds.

Therefore, his first priority was to get trade in the Arling flowing again.

Hence, he was headed toward the Merchant's guild headquarters, in order to get information on the attacks.

Suddenly, he noticed that Nathaniel had stopped in his tracks, and he had a look of wonder and disbelief in his eyes. Following his gaze, Matthew spotted a woman tending a stand with her back to them. Nathaniel walked up to her, and said in a quiet voice, "Delilah?" The women turned to him, and lit up with joy and relief. "Nathaniel!" she cried. "I had feared the worse." The two embraced each other, crying with happiness.

Matthew paused, and then remembered who the woman was; she was Delilah Howe, Nathaniel's sister. In the past, Rendon had dropped hints to Matthew's parents that he would like to arrange a marriage between Delilah and Matthew with all the subtlety of a war hammer. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland had been interested in the arrangement, but Matthew and Delilah were not; Matthew, who was 15 at the time, and in the midst of an abnormally fierce rebellious adolescence, had threatened to leave Highever forever and live as a commoner in Denerim rather than be related to the Howes. It had not been an empty threat; he was an excellent blacksmith, in addition to a warrior, even at this age, and was confident he could support himself. He had rounded off his argument be claiming that if his parents thought he was old enough to get married, than he was an adult, and could make his own decisions with his life. In addition, Delilah thought, rather accurately, that Matthew was an arrogant little burke.

In more recent years, Matthew had suspected, and in the last few days, the servants confirmed, that Rendon had lost his patience, and had locked Delilah in a room, with no food, and hardly any water, until Delilah agreed to the arrangement. By then, however, it had been too late, as he received a letter written by Matthew's father; Bryce had conceded defeat, and the marriage simply would not be happening. This marked the first time that Matthew's parents had ever given in to him, and Matthew did not squander the power that this gave him. It was what had convinced them to stop dragging him (sometimes literally) to the Chantry that he so despised, at 16, and why, two years later, he had been allowed to lead a force to quell a peasant uprising in Highever's lands, that proved to be the work of Orliesian spies. The only reason that this did not cause another war with their neighboring country was that the instigators proved to be fanatics that were wanted even in their own country.

Nathaniel step back, then said, with a pitying look in his eye, "Times must have been hard, Delilah. But you can do better than this. Come back to the estate until we find somewhere else." Matthew knew immediately what Nathaniel was talking about; one of the servants at Vigil's Keep had told Nathaniel that Delilah had married a merchant in Amaranthine. As she was, up until recently, a noble, this was scandalous at best. "What," Delilah asked, then she laughed. "Nathanial, I didn't marry Albert out of desperation, I adore him! And besides, he is _so_ much better than that stuck-up Cousland brat Father was always trying to set me up with." "Um, hello, Delilah," Matthew spoke up. "I am right here. I can hear everything you're saying." Deliliah turned to him, then turned as red as a beet, and mumbled an apology.

Nathaniel laughed, and, hugging his sister, said, "It's alright Delilah; he does tend to be a bit stuck-up." Matthew looked incredulously at Nathaniel. "Again, I am right here." Grinning rather sadistically, he said "Come on, sister, let's go talk away from more…. Self-focused ears." The two siblings walked into Delilah's house, and closed the door. Matthew turned to Oghren, Morrigan, and Anders, all of whom were trying not to laugh. "I **am **here, correct? You all **can** see me, right?"

"So," Morrigan began, annoyance clear in her voice, "husband, would you like to explain why we climbing the stairs to the Chantry, when we both despise it so." "Because," Matthew explained, "the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer is the wealthiest Chantry in the kingdom, and while the Revered Mother is a penny-pinching, hypocritical **bitch**, it is likely that several well-paying requests will be pinned to the Chanter's Board, pay that we desperately need, unfortunately. "Very well," Morrigan sighed, "I just never believed I would so object to improving our position."

Chuckling, Matthew began walking over to the Board, only to stop, as he saw a familiar figure at the balcony; snow white hair, dark, sapphire eyes, and scarlet Senior Enchanter ropes. This could only be one person.

"Wynne!" Matthew exclaimed, walking over to the women, who turned around, confirming that it was the Spirit Healer that had helped him end the blight. Wynne hugged him, and said, "It is good to see you again, my friend." "Likewise," Matthew said. Wynne smiled, then turned to Morrigan, saying, "Ah, Morrigan. Have anything insulting to say to me; how I am a dog on a leash, or perhaps a women of ill repute the Chantry loans to whomever it wishes?" "No, I do not," Morrigan replied. "At my love's insistence, I am making a conscious effort to be civil and respectful, even to those who do not deserve it." Wynne turned to Matthew, with a smile on her face and said, "You have made a great deal of progress with her; impressive." Morrigan glowered at the Circle Mage. "Yes," Matthew laughed, "but she isn't tame yet. Perhaps we should put on a pedestal, like Zevran suggested." Gales of merriment swept up the Arl and the Senior Enchanter, as Morrigan screeched and stormed away to the other side of the balcany, completely enraged.

"So, Wynne," Matthew said, after his laughter had subsided, "what brings you to Amaranthine? Shouldn't you be at court with Alistair, with Arl Eamon boring you about taxes and the exact amount of grain harvested this year?" Chuckling, Wynne replied, "Yes, but the College of the Magi is convening in Cumberland, and I must attend. Hopefully, the mess here in Amaranthine will have blown over by the time I return." It was then that Matthew noted the one emotion he had never seen on Wynne's face, and never thought he would see; uncertainty.

"What is wrong, Wynne," Matthew asked, concerned for his friend. "You look worried." "Something is stirring within the Fraternities, the mage political parties. The Libertarians wish to pull away entirely from the Chantry, and if they get enough support, they will." Matthew smiled at the thought of mages blasting away at their templar jailors. "Good," he crowed, "It's about time mages tried to free themselves."

Wynne suddenly bypassed fear, and looked terrified. "Matthew," she chided, "you **know** the dangers involved with magic; you know mages attract demons that try to possess them." Matthew exhaled, and then said, "Wynne, you and I both know that that doesn't happen anywhere near as often as the Chantry would have us believe it does. While I am a firm believer that mages should be properly instructed, and those that have congress with demons or use blood magic should be punished, that does **not** mean that your people should be imprisoned for your whole lives." "Matthew, I have told you; sometimes a few must sacrifice for the good of many, in this case mages."

Matthew shook his head sadly; he was beginning to loss his patience. "Wynne, you are a wonderful philosopher, but sometimes you are too wise for your own good. Nothing that the Chantry claims is a good enough reason for condemning mages for the actions of a few greedy Tevinter magisters; no reason is good enough to commit genocide on a people, as the templars tried to do during the Blight." He paused, and then continued softly, wondering if he was going too far. "No reason is good enough for taking away a mother's child at birth, before she can even look at it." An old, enormously painful sadness appeared in Wynne's eyes; that last scenario had happened to her.

Wynne then composed herself, and replied, "Perhaps, Matthew. However, a mage rebellion would be met with condemnation from everyone in Thedas. For better or worse, we must remain with the Chantry; can you name anyone who would support us?" "I would support you," Matthew replied immediately. "And Alistair would, you know how much he hates the templars. And Arl Eamon would as well; you saved his son Connor from being possessed by that desire demon." Wynne paused, searching for a cohesive argument, then said, "And the people of Fereldan? Why would they support us?" Matthew spread his arms, and exclaimed, "Why wouldn't they? The Hero of Fereldan, the Grey Warden King, and the Bannhammer all saying that the kingdom should rebel against an organization that is based in _Orlais?_ The people would leap at this." A smile covered Matthew's face, and a fire lit in his eyes, as, in his mind's eye, he saw wave after wave of Fereldan soldiers and mabari war hounds cut down thousands of Chantry templars, freeing hundreds of mages, who unleashed the fury of the elements upon their former jailors. So engrossed was he by these prophecies of war, that he did not notice Wynne, who was now going pale, walk over to Morrigan, who was watching the as the city dwellers went about their lives.

"Morrigan," Wynne said in a shaking voice. Morrigan turned, summoned a false smile, and bowed low before her. "Yes, Senior Enchanter?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "Morrigan, you must convince the teenager in a fully grown man's body that you have supposedly fallen in love with to abandon the idea that the Circles of Magi should be free of Chantry control." Morrigan arched an eyebrow. "And how do you propose I do this; I have made it quite clear that I believe that mages **should** be free, or at least **want** to be free." "That is not what I meant, Morrigan. He believes that mages should instigate an armed rebellion against the Chantry, and that the he and the rest of Fereldan's population would support it." Morrigan looked at Matthew with nothing less than proud, loving admiration. "And that is why I fell in love with Matthew Cousland. In any case, Wynne, if there is a man alive who can convince this backwards kingdom to rebel against this ridiculous religion, it is him."

"Stop it, Morrigan," Wynne hissed. "I believe that Matthew truly wishes for this to happen. He will risk destroying himself to see the Chantry cast down, and in so doing will condemn those who he wishes to aid." "And?" Morrigan asked, clearly not believing Wynne had elaborating enough. "And that scares me." Wynne finally admitted. "And why would it scare you? Are you afraid of the templars killing every mage in Thedas, and those who support them?" Morrigan then sneered at the Senior Enchanter as another thought occurred to her. "Or are you afraid that you might win, and be given the freedom that every living thing should have?"

With that, Morrigan walked past her, brought her husband out of his daydreams, and the two left to rejoin their companions. As soon as the couple was out of earshot, Wynne sighed, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Maker help me. I would be _terrified_ if we won."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I am so sorry that I haven't updated this story for so long. I became caught up in my other story, Dragon's Rage. So, I am writing another chapter for Inseparable. Please note that the two tales do not interact; they are in entirely different timelines. **

Chapter 10

Matthew, Anders, Oghren, and Nathaniel walked along the path through the Wending Wood, looking for evidence of attacks on traders. Morrigan was not with them this time; she was becoming visibly pregnant, and was forced to set aside her pride, and sit any further combat out.

Nathaniel, however, was not really looking for any signs of attack. His mind was still on his discussion with Delilah. When Matthew and Morrigan returned from the Chantry, they had found Nathaniel waiting for them, skin white as a sheet. In a broken voice, he informed his commander of what Delilah had told him, what his brother and father had done. As much as Matthew was glad that Nathaniel was now on the right track so far as event's were concerned, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Howe; it could not be an easy thing to be told by your own sister that your brother and father were selfish, insane sons of bitches.

Seeing that Nathaniel was again staring into space, Matthew called out his name; the tracker literally jumped in surprise. "Nathaniel," he said, "I realize that you have a lot on your mind, but right now, we need to focus on looking for whatever is causing this mess. Alright?" "Yes, ser," Nathaniel replied, and then began looking around for any indication of raids.

They didn't have to look hard to find them, though.

A short way into the wood, they found a wrecked, burning wagon, its contents strewn everywhere, being picked over by bandits who, upon seeing the Warden's approaching, fled off the path. Matthew knew that they were not the cause of the disaster, however; the wagon had attacked by something that wanted to destroy, not steal.

"Follow those bandits!" Matthew shouted, and the four companions ran after the thieves, bellowing war cries. A little ways into the woods, they found the main group of robbers. Half of them turned and fled at the sight of the approaching Warden's, but the rest grabbed their weapons and held their ground. It was the biggest (and last) mistake the robbers ever made. Lashing out with the Summer Sword, Matthew decapitated three men with one blow. Four others were blasted with a fireball from Anders, and the rest were shot by Nathaniel. Oghren swore; there was no one for him to kill. "Next time," the angry dwarven warrior yelled, "I get to take out the whole group."

Before anyone could reply, however, there was a cracking sound in the distance, followed by a scream of agony. Following the noises, the Warden's made it to a clearing, where a very strange sight played out before them.

The bandits, who had apparently run back to their main camp to gather reinforcements, were under attack- by walking trees! That was not what surprised him, however; Matthew had encountered these trees before. They were sylvans, trees that had been possessed by demons, who, trapped in their bark prison, had gone mad. Matthew had fought and defeated them before, so their presence did not surprise him.

What surprised him was that these sylvans were on _fire._

Oghren was about to charge out to attack both sides indiscriminately, but Matthew held him back, saying, "Let's let them whittle each other down first." With a huff, the dwarf stood down, and the four Wardens watched and waited as their foes tore into each other.

Eventually, the bandits managed to prevail, though only three of them were left, still in shock over having been attacked by flaming trees. Matthew nodded to Oghren, and the dwarf happily charged forward and killed the last three bandits. The first one he decapitated, the next he slashed across the stomach, and the final bandit he split in two from the top of the head down to his pelvis. With the last of his enemies vanquished, Oghren bellowed a victory cry.

"Are you happy now?" Matthew asked. Oghren took a gulp of whatever foul concoction he kept in his flask, and gave an enormous belch. "Good," Matthew replied. "Now let's go." The group continued down the path, eventually coming to a stream with a bridge crossing it.

As they crossed to the other side, another bandit started running down the path toward them, and they prepared to cut him down. The man simply ran past them, however, a look of terror in his eyes, screaming, "Get out of my way! She's coming!", and taking off down the path.

"That cannot be good," Anders muttered. Just then, they heard a rumbling sound, and, at the top of a nearby cliff, an enormous tangle of roots shot out of the ground and into the air. They stopped, and then shot back into the ground. In their place stood an unusually tall female elf, her face covered in Dalish tattoos, and her hands still glowing with the spell that had powered the unusual spell. Upon seeing the group before her, her face twisted with disgust and anger.

"Another scavenger here to prey upon the misfortune of others?" she sneered. "No," she continued, giving them no time to respond, "you are too well armed. Here for me, then." The hair on Matthew's neck started to stand on end; it was possible that this elf was insane, or else extremely upset. Add in the fact that she was a mage, and she was defiantly a threat. He was absolutely certain that she was the cause of the attacks on the merchant caravans.

"You will not drive me from these forests," the Dalish mage continued. "The shems could not do it, the darkspawn could not, and you will fare no better." Deciding to attempt diplomacy, as he had no desire to engage such a dangerous foe if he could help it, Matthew shouted back, "We are Grey Wardens; we have no quarrel with you."

Recognition flashed in the elf's eyes, and she looked at them with a small amount of respect-or considerably less contempt- and said, "Ah. Then you are here to battle darkspawn then. Fair enough. Should you encounter any merchant caravans, tell them to release my sister, or more of their men will die. Now go, deal with your darkspawn, and _stay out of my way._" With that, she cast another spell, roots wrapped around her, and then shot into the ground, leaving nothing where she had once been but empty air.

"I think we know why all the merchant caravans have been attacked recently," Nathaniel deadpanned. Turning to Matthew, the archer said, "We should probably take her out immediately, Commander." "Not happening, Nathaniel," Matthew replied. "If the merchants kidnapped her sister, than she is in the right in this. The best thing we could do is find her sister and reunite the two. And besides, that elf is a mage; I would rather not fight her if I can help it." Nodding Nathaniel stepped back in line, and the group continued up the hill.

Eventually, near the top of the hill, they were ambushed by a group of darkspawn; three genlocks ran up the hill at them, and two hurlocks jumped from the bushes above them and charged down from the top of the hill. Matthew turned to face the hurlocks, leaving their smaller cousins to the other three.

The first darkspawn, wielding an ax in each hand, swung a vicious blow at Matthew's head, which the Cousland easily dodged. Matthew then swung the Summer Sword in a horizontal cut, catching the Hurlock underneath its haphazard chest plate, and bisecting the monster. The second darkspawn, wielding a massive maul, also swung its weapon at the Grey Warden. Matthew reached up, and grabbed the warhammer's handle as it came down toward him, stopping the weapon. Then, he stabbed his blade into the hurlock's chest. Matthew could feel the vibrations on the flaming blade, as the monster's black heart cut itself to pieces as it pumped the diseased ooze that passed for blood throughout its wretched body.

Pulling the blade out of the darkspawn's torso, and letting the corpse drop, he turned to his companions, who had already dealt with the other darkspawn; on gunlock was riddled with arrows, another had been frozen and shattered, and the last had had its head ripped off by Oghren.

Continuing to the top of the hill, the four adventurers found a small dalish camp; it had been ransacked, their wear bloodstains and discarded weapons everywhere, and, to the side, were six recently dug graves.

"I guess we know why that elf went on a rampage now," Anders said, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably. "This wasn't done by humans," Matthew muttered. "Commander, I hate to speak ill about my own species," Nathaniel commented, "but I don't see how it _couldn't _have been done by humans; all these weapons are of our design."

"That is just it, Nathaniel; no one would leave all their weapons behind after an attack that killed all their opponents," Matthew explained. "These weapons were planted to mislead anyone who found the camp; namely, the elven mage we just ran into." "But who would do that, and why?" Anders asked, all cheer gone. "I don't know, and we are going to find out," Matthew replied, leading his companions out of the camp and back down the hill.

Ten minutes, one ambush, and eight dead darkspawn later, the group came upon a makeshift lean-to, with a man lying under it. I was clear he was extremely ill; boils covered his skin, black circles were under his eyes, and his breath came in ragged gasps. As they got closer, Matthew's Warden Sense, as he called it, began "tickling" his mind; the man was infected with the Taint. And it was too advanced for even the Joining to save him; the man was already half darkspawn.

As they approached, the man looked up, and then quickly looked away. "Don't….don't look at me," he groaned. "Who are you?" Matthew asked.

"Olaf….my name….came with friends to…..drive off the elf." The man's breathing became shallower. " But…..the darkspawn were too quick. We were ripped apart….biting claws and teeth from the darkness. Then….I woke. Everyone dead…..dead, soft meat, melting into the ground. I….crawled here. Can't stand to see it."

"Did you kill the elves that were here?" Matthew asked. "No," Olaf replied. "They slaughtered us, took our steel. Brought it to the elven camp. Tricked us. Tricked the elf. Now she thinks that we are to blame."

"So all these people died over a misunderstanding?" Anders asked, horror dripping from his voice. "Maker, that's horrible! We have to find her, tell her she's wrong."

"The dark ones are curious about you, too. They watch you as well as her. Can't you sense them?" Olaf asked. He was right; Matthew could sense darkspawn nearby, though they were too far away for him to tell exactly where they were.

Matthew paused, and then whispered, "This disease will kill you, you know." Olaf shook his head. "Am already dead…..already gone. Make….make an end, please…" Nodding, Matthew took his knife from his belt, whispered an apology to the poor man, and then drove the blade into the man's skull, killing him instantly. Matthew was still for a moment, then pulled the knife from the man's head, closed his eyes, crossed his arms across his chest, and stood up.

And immediately became aware of the fact that his Warden Sense was screaming at him.

Turning around, he saw no less than fifteen darkspawn, weapons drawn, and waiting for them.

Shouting a warning to Nathaniel, Oghren and Anders, Matthew grabbed the handle of the Summer Sword, hopping his lack of foresight hadn't doomed them all.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Just when Matthew thought that they were all dead, Nathaniel and Anders acted. The former pulled a glass bottle filled with bubbling read liquid from his tunic and threw it at one group of darkspawn, while Anders launched a fireball at another. Both struck the ground and exploded, sending dirt, metal, glass and darkspawn body parts in every direction. The surviving spawn were shocked at their sudden reversal of fortune, and hesitated before attacking. Oghren and Matthew, sensing weakness, immediately charged forward and hacked the survivors to apart before their archers could loose their arrows.

As soon as the last of the monsters fell, Matthew allowed the group a moment to collect their wits after being ambushed. Once they had all calmed down and caught their breath, Matthew turned to his companions and said, "Alright, everybody, we need to track down that elf; she is the only one that could point us in the right direction now, and we need to stop her from slaughtering any more innocents." They all nodded, and were nice enough not to point out the obvious fact that they might never find the elf; with her transportation spell, she could be anywhere. Still, they all fell in line to head back to the elven camp; it was their one clue to her location, and she seemed attached to the site; Matthew was confident that the Dalish women would eventually return there. They need only wait.

As they set out, Matthew noticed a strange glimmer on one of the darkspawn corpses. Leaning down, he saw that it was a necklace of some sort, and it was too finely crafted for darkspawn hands. Tacking it, he looked it other, and on examination, he determined that it was of Dalish origin. Thinking that it might belong to the Dalish mage's sister, he pocketed the medallion, and started toward the campsite.

As they were going up the trail that lead to the top of the hill, however, their target decided to come to them instead.

Halfway up the trail, Matthew looked up at the overhang, and saw the elf standing there, watching them with a mixture of anger, frustration, and hysteria on her face.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded. "Don't you understand; I have to do this to get Seranni back!" Matthew assumed that that was the Dalish elf's sister's name, and Matthew felt sympathy for her; she was trying to get her family back, a cause which Matthew could understand completely. However, her atrocities left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, not to mention the fact that she was punishing the innocent.

"I just want to speak to you," Matthew shouted, again trying to be diplomatic. This time, however, he failed. "We have nothing to talk about! Stop hounding me!" the Dalish mage screamed. And with that, she drew on her magic, and brought two nearby dormant sylvans to life, and brought in a pack of wolves to attack them. Then the mage began to run back toward her camp.

Matthew shouted to Oghren and Anders to deal with the sylvans while he and Nathaniel held of the wolf pack. The archer quickly shot three wolves before being forced back. As the first predator leapt at Nathaniel, Matthew slashed down, decapitating the animal, then pulled a knife from his belt and hurled it at the next wolf, hitting it in the chest. The wolf fell with a pained whimper. Then, the last animal sprinted at him at full speed. Matthew, with no time to bring his blade to bear or get out of the way, initiated his last option; he pulled a crossbow from his shoulder, string already drawn and a bolt already held in place, aimed at the approaching predator, and fired. The bolt hit the wolf in the neck, severed its spinal column, and passed out the other side. The animal fell, dead before it even hit the ground.

Reloading the crossbow, Matthew turned to see Anders call forth a raging inferno, burning one of the sylvans to a crisp, while Oghren was just finishing chopping the second into what was beginning to resemble firewood.

"I didn't know that you knew how to shoot, Commander," Nathaniel said, calling Matthew's attention back to the rogue. Turning, Matthew grinned, and then said, "Hey, Nathaniel, I know how to shoot." Nathaniel chuckled softly, and then looked confused. "Why didn't you say anything before?" "Because," Matthew replied, "you are the resident sharpshooter, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself." Nathaniel laughed in earnest at that comment.

Once he had stopped, Matthew called to their two other companions, and the group continued their hike up the hill to the Dalish camp unmolested. When they arrived, they saw the Dalish mage bent over near the graves, panting heavily. Upon hearing them, her head shot up, and she tried to cast a spell to blast them off the cliff. "Tried" was the key word, however; when the spell hit Matthew, it had all the power of a slight breeze. Finally spent, the mage fell on all fours, head hung low and gasping for breath. It was obvious that she was out of mana.

Mages were extremely powerful, but even they had limits. Their spells required mana to work, and the amount of mana each mage had was finite. From what Morrigan and Wynne had explained, mages could regenerate mana over time, but it was clear that this elf had been casting spells with such frequency she had no opportunity to replace her losses. She was essentially defenseless now.

Finally looking up, the mage said, "You will never take me alive." Looking down at her, Matthew said, "I am not going to kill you." The elf snarled. "I will not go with you to some shemlan magistrate. I will not bow to your laws." "I am not going to give you a trial either," Matthew continued, raising his voice. "I am going to do something much worse; I am going to tell you the truth. My people did not attack yours, the darkspawn did. And when they were finished, they attacked my people, took their weapons, and planted them here, to mislead you."

The elf spat at his feet. "And what proof," she growled, "do you have of this?" Reaching into his pocket, Matthew pulled out the Dalish necklace he had found on the darkspawn, and handed it to the Dalish elf, saying "Does this look familiar?" The elf's eyes went as big as saucers. "This….this belongs to Seranni." She then glared daggers at Hawke. "Where did you find this? This necklace was given to her by our mother before she died; Seranni would no more part with this than with her head!" Matthew swallowed, and then said, "I found that on the body of darkspawn that attacked us when we discovered their ruse."

"That means," the elf said slowly, realization dawning on her, "that the darkspawn killed my people. They killed Seranni." "No," Matthew said, dreading the fact that he would have to tell this women that her sister was worse than dead. "They wouldn't have killed her. They would take her prisoner, then turn her into a broodmother."

Broodmothers were, beyond all doubt, the most monstrous things that Matthew had ever encountered, surpassing even the Archdemon. They were the remnants of women who had been taken by the darkspawn, corrupted by the Taint, and turned into massive, bloated horrors that could birth thousands upon thousands of darkspawn over the course of their lives. Which type of darkspawn was produced depended on the species of the broodmother; dwarven broodmothers produced genlocks, human ones produced hurlocks, elven ones produced shrieks, and kossith, the race that had founded the Qunari religion, produced ogres.

There was no way the Dalish mage could have known what a broodmother was, but she clearly knew that it was not good. Standing, she looked Matthew in the eye and said, "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I beg you, let me come with you. I have to find my sister, and I cannot face the darkspawn alone."

Matthew knew that against the darkspawn they needed all the help they could get, so he replied, "Fine, but I am watching you." Nodding, the elf continued. "My name is Velanna, if you care for such things. Where would the darkspawn dwell?" "In caves and tunnels, most likely," Matthew replied. Velanna nodded. "There is an old Silverite mine not far from here. Let's go."

Vellanna attempted to walk past Matthew, but started to fall over before she walked more than a few feet; she was clearly still suffering from mana deprivation. Matthew caught her, and slowly lowered her to the ground, then said, "Anders, get me a lyrium potion. A strong one." The mage handed the flask to the Commander, and Matthew brought it to Velanna's lips, careful not to spill any; lyrium was poisonous, and contact with the substance would cause insanity and death to non-mages. How the Templars ingested the stuff on a regular basis without killing themselves was a mystery to him.

After Velanna had drank the potion, Matthew turned to Anders and said, "Get back to Amaranthine and tell the Merchant's Guild we found the source of the attacks and have dealt with it." Anders blanched. "Commander, you're sending me to do this ALONE?" "Oh come now, Anders," Matthew chided him. "You are a big boy now; you can do these things yourself. And besides, you are a mage." Anders crossed his arms. "And what if the Templars decide to come after me?"

Matthew pulled his signet ring off his finger, and handed it to the reluctant mage. "If the Templars come after you, show them that and tell them you are there on Grey Warden business. And if they arrest you anyway, then I will personally burn the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer to the ground. With them inside it."

Finally smiling, Anders took the ring, and headed off. Turning back to Velanna, he saw the mage was now on her feet, the lyrium potion having replenished her mana pool. Then the group set off to the south, heading toward the Silverite mine. Before they got halfway there, however, they stopped.

A large group of darkspawn was headed their way, streaming out of the mine that Velanna had mentioned.

The four of them drew their weapons, and charged down the hill toward the spawn.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Led by an ogre, and two emissaries, the darkspawn screamed with bloodlust, and charged the group. They did not get very far, though; Velanna immediately launched a fireball at the spawn, and blasted the weaker genlocks and hurlocks to pieces. Only three, the ogre and two Alpha genlocks, survived the blast of flame, and stood up, their armor and leathery skin covered in burns and soot. Nathaniel fired two arrows at the emissaries, killing them before the darkspawn mages could finish their unholy spells.

Leaving the Alphas to Oghren, Matthew ran to engage the ogre. The massive darkspawn swiped at him, but the Commander of the Grey easily dodged the clumsy attack; on closer inspection, Matthew saw that Velanna's fireball had blinded it in one eye.

Now in too close for the ogre to grab, Matthew slashed the Summer Sword at the beast's right leg, cutting through the muscle and tendons until the flaming blade finally sand deep into the ogre's femur, breaking the bone. With a whine of agony, the massive beast toppled over to the side. Matthew leapt onto the darkspawn's chest, and drove the flaming blade into the ogre's undamaged eye, into its brain, and through the back of its skull, killing it.

Yanking the blade free of the corpse, Matthew regrouped with his three companions, and together they entered the mine, and were immediately confronted with a rickety wooden staircase leading down to the main level. Carefully descending so that the weight of their armor and weapons wouldn't shatter the wood and plunge them to their deaths, the group slowly made its way down to bottom of the shaft.

However, as soon as they reached their destination, Matthew's skin prickled; more darkspawn were nearby. Worse, they were coming from behind them.

_How? _Matthew thought. _Could some from the last group still be alive?_ However, as he turned back to the mine entrance, his questions were answered for him. Two figures entered the mine; one was a very tall, extravagantly dressed (for a darkspan) emissary, and the other was female dwarven ghoul. It was clear to Matthew that these were elite darkspawn; this was going to be a difficult fight.

Before Matthew could do more than draw his blade, however, the Emissary murmured "Sleep," and a glyph appeared around their feet.

_A sleeping hex!_ Matthew thought.

The Warden-Commander had always had enormous mental discipline; most such effects, magical or otherwise, had reduced effectiveness on him and sometimes had no effect at all. This spell, however, was so powerful even he was overwhelmed by it, and in spite of all his struggling, he fell to the ground unconscious, along with Oghren, Nathaniel and Velanna.

oo-00-oo

Matthew awake strapped to a table, his armor and weapons gone. Still disoriented by the hex, he rolled his head around, his vision blurred, until he heard a soft, raspy voice say, "So you are the Commander of the Grey Wardens."

Focusing on the source of the voice, his vision finally cleared, and he saw the same emissary that had attacked him and his group. Fear gripped his heart like steel; he was confronted with one of the most powerful beings he had ever met, and he was defenseless.

The emissary obviously saw Matthew's terror, and said "Do not be troubled; your injuries have been tended to."

_Tended to?_ Matthew thought. _ By Darkspawn! What in Andraste's name is going on?_

"I regret what I must do," the emissary continued. "I do not wish to be your enemy."

Matthew spat at the darkspawn. "You are the enemy of all creation, monster. If you don't wish to fight me, you will be disappointed." The emissary, not perturbed by the venom in Matthew's voice, raised his hand, and said, "Now is not the time for this, Commander. Rest." And with that, Matthew felt the effects of another sleeping hex. This time, he gave in; he knew from experience that he couldn't resist that spell.

oo-00-oo

Matthew again awoke, this time on the floor of the cell that he shared with Nathaniel, Oghren, and Velanna. The master archer immediately got up and walked over to the Commander and helped him to his feet. Looking over his three fellow prisoners, Matthew saw that he, Nathaniel, and Oghren all had cuts along their wrists that looked as if they had been recently healed. Velanna, however, did not.

_Did they bleed us? _Matthew wondered. _And if they did, why only Oghren, Nathaniel, and I and not Valanna?_ Before he could voice any of his questions, however, he heard footsteps approaching their cell.

Looking past the rusted bars, Matthew saw a Dalish elf in scale armor walking toward them. As she got closer, Matthew also saw the tell-tale rashes and boils on her face that characterized the darkspawn taint.

Velanna immediately ran up to the bars, sheer terror on her face. "Serrani," she shouted. "Creators, what have they done to you?" Serrani immediately brought her fingers to her lips, shushing her older sister. "They haven't done anything to me Velanna, I'm fine. It's not me he wants." The corrupted Dalish elf's perfect speech through Matthew off guard; she was clearly fully transformed into a ghoul. By all reckoning, Serrani should have been mindless fodder, or incapacitated with pain.

"I have to get you out before something bad happens," Serrani continued. "I don't want anyone else to be hurt." Velanna huffed with annoyance. "Yes, alright. Let me out and I'll take you home."

Serrani seemed to ignore what her sister said. Turning to Matthew, she said, "The darkspawn have your things. You can still get it all back if you are careful and clever." Suddenly, the sound of doors opening could be heard nearby. Seranni looked over her shoulder at a set of closed double doors a short way from the cell; it seemed the darksawn were coming to check on them.

"They're coming!" Serrani exclaimed. "You have to go; find a way out of the mines. Please!" Then, the Dalish ghoul turned, and ran towards another door at the other end of the prison. "Serrani, wait!" Velanna shouted, but her sister ignored her; she ran through the door, shutting it behind her.

Matthew noticing that Serrani had unlocked the door to their cell, immediately cast his eyes around for something, _anything_ that he could use as a weapon. He immediately spotted a broken bar on their cell, the last two feet on the bottom sheared off to form a nasty spike. The Warden-Commander ran over to it, and with a mighty heave, ripped it from its foundation. Thus armed, he ran towards the doors the darkspawn were about to enter, hoping to catch them off-guard.

The first monster to enter the prison was a Hurlock alpha, wielding a greatsword. Spotting the Grey Warden sprinting at him full tilt, it immediately raised the blade above its head- leaving it completely exposed. Matthew drove his impromptu weapon under the alpha's chin, through its skull, and out through its helmet. Letting go of the metal rod, Matthew grabbed the fallen alpha's greatsword, and began cutting down the lesser darkspawn that followed it.

Once the last genlock was dispatched, by means of Velanna crushing its head with a Stonefist spell, the four scavenged weapons and armor from the fallen spawn, then made their way out the same way Serrani had gone. In the next room, they emerged on a balcony, with a squad of darkspawn waiting unsuspectingly on the floor below them. Their inattentiveness proved to be their undoing, as the escaped prisoners were able to use the nearby ballista to take out all but one of the darkspawn, who was quickly dispatched by an arrow shot by Nathaniel.

Walking down to the floor below them, they continued to the next room, though "cave" would be a more appropriate term. As they walked in, they spotted a dwarven ghoul nearby. It was armed and armored in Oghren's gear. "HEY!" the drunken berserker shouted. "That's MINE! That….thing has my things! It's got its sallow, clammy hands all over my doo-dads, touching my junk!" The dwarven ghoul, ignoring Oghren's outburst completely, turned and began walking away, but Oghren wasn't having it; he ran up to the ghoul and decapitated it, sending black, tainted blood everywhere. Grabbing the fallen ghouls still twitching head, Oghren held it up to his face, and bellowed "NO ONE TOUCHES OGHREN'S JUNK _**AND LIVES**__!"_

_Well, I guess Branka learned that the hard way,_ Matthew thought, mind going back to when they had found Oghren's missing wife, and the atrocities the madwomen had unleashed upon those who had followed her on her mad quest for the Anvil of the Void.

Once Oghren was finished strapping himself into his armor, he picked up his battle ax, and the group continued on their way. Eventually, they came to an offshoot of the main cavern, from which emanated pained whimpering. His curiosity getting the better of him, Matthew altered his course to enter the small sub-cave. There, he found a man, a Grey Warden. Both his legs had been crushed beyond hope of even magical healing, and a large pool of blood was around them, too much for anyone to survive loosing. Matthew was amazed that the man was still alive.

Looking up, the injured warden whispered, "You're the Warden-Commander. I would not have expected to see you here. Did those bastards get you too?" "Yes, they did," Matthew replied. The warden groaned, and then said, "My name is Keenan. I had hoped that you would avoid capture, would be luckier than the rest of us." "Were you one of the Wardens captured in the darkspawn attack on Vigil's Keep?" The warden nodded. "I think I'm the only one left; they others are dead or worse." Matthew cursed. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"Listen to me," Keenan whispered; it was clear he wasn't long for this world. "There is a darkspawn carrying a huge maul. He crushed my legs, and then took my wedding ring. Please, Commander, find him. Slay him. Bring the ring to my wife, Nida, in Amaranthine. Tell her I died trying to make this world better." "I'd rather bring _you_ to your wife, Keenan," Matthew whispered. Keenan shook his head. "I'll only slow you down, and I'm gone. Just do this. For me." Then, with a final gasp, Keenan finally bled out.

Matthew lowered his head, and then closed Keenan's eyes. "Rest, brother." Standing, he had Valanna burn Keenan's body until it was ash, and then gathered the remains. Keenan would not rot away among these beasts; Matthew was determined to give his fellow Grey Warden as fitting a funeral as he could.

Continuing through the tunnels, they found the darkspawn that carried Keenan's ring, as well as three other ghouls that held the rest of the group's equipment. Now rearmed with their best gear, the darkspawn and the minions they summoned were dropping like flies.

Eventually, they reached a decadent hall seemingly unspoiled by the darkspawn. After climbing the stairs leading to the next doorway, they saw the last thing that Matthew had thought to see.

A Qunari. Or rather, a member of the race that founded the religion, the kossith.

The bronze-skinned giant turned to the group of escaped captives, and said, "You are not supposed to be here." Matthew crossed his arms, and replied, "I don't think you are supposed to be here either." "You are wrong," the kossith replied. "I have an agreement with these creatures; I give them supplies, they give me gold."

That was all Matthew needed to hear in order to know that this kossith was not a follower of the Qun; from all the time Matthew had spent with Sten during the Blight, he knew that no Qunari would do something simply to increase their own personal wealth. This kossith was a Tal-Vashoth, essentially a deserter.

Then, Matthew remembered the request Vigil's Keep's treasurer, Mistress Woolsey, had made to him; to keep a lookout for any merchants to come to the Keep to help increase trade, and get the Arling's economy back on track. With that in mind, Matthew asked, "Would you be willing to set up shop at Vigil's Keep?" "The Warden's fortress," the kossith replied. "I know of it. If there is coin to be had, Armass will be there." Realizing that was the being's name, Matthew replied, "Very well, Armass. I hope to see you there. Now if you will excuse me, my companions and I wish to get as far away from here as possible." "Go then," Armass said. "I will say nothing of you to the darkspawn."

Leaving the merchant behind, Matthew, Nathaniel, Oghren, and Velanna continued through the ruins the cave had given way to, occasionally fighting off poorly organized groups of darkspawn. The desperation of the fiends to keep them here was clear. It also seemed that they were no longer trying to recapture them, and were merely trying to keep them from escaping.

Eventually, they came to a large, spacious room, with several balconies, and on one of them stood the emissary that imprisoned them, the female dwarven ghoul, and Seranni. The emissary raised his hand, and then two adolescent dragons, clearly infected with the taint, dropped down to the floor, and began advancing on Matthew and his companions.

It was one of the hardest battles Matthew had ever fought. He had faced dragons before, but never two adolescents at once. To make matters worse, whenever they were beginning to get the upper hand, the two beasts would vault into the air and come back down wherever they chose. It was not entirely one-sided, however; both Matthew and Oghren had practical experience when it came to fighting dragons, Velanna had several ice-based spells that were particularly effective against the fire-based beasts, and Nathaniel was throwing freezing grenades whenever he could.

Finally, Matthew lost control completely. Running up to the dragon that was facing Oghren, Matthew leapt into the air and brought the Summer Sword down on the beast's neck with all his strength, decapitating it and leaving Oghren very disgruntled. Panting, Matthew turned to see the second dragon fall under the combined attacks of Velanna and Nathaniel.

Looking up, expecting to see the three onlookers come down to attack them. Instead, they turned and began to walk towards a whole in the wall behind them, leading to yet another tunnel. Velanna shouted to her sister, begging her to come back, but Seranni ignored her sister completely. Then, once the three had entered the tunnel, the emissary cast a spell that collapsed the entrance behind them. By the time the dust settled, there was five feet of rubble blocking the way.

"No," Velanna moaned. "Why is she with that monster?" Turning to Matthew, she snarled, "We must get to her!" "And how do you propose we do that," Matthew asked. "By the time we get up there and get all that rubble out of the way, they'll be in the Deep Roads. We will never find them. Not today." Velanna appeared furious for a moment, but then appeared deep in thought. "They say that Wardens can sense the darkspawn even deep underground," Velanna murmured. Then, she straitened up and said, "I would join the Grey Wardens. Give me the ability to hunt down these monsters in the Deep!"

Crossing his arms, Matthew said, "Becoming a Grey Warden is dangerous, Velanna. And I will not make you such simply to fuel your own personal desires; if you become a Grey Warden, you will be under my command; my orders will likely take precedent over the search for your sister." Velanna opened her mouth to protest, closed it, and then sighed in defeat. "This is my only chance of finding her, Warden. If that means following your orders for the rest of my life, I will do it." Nodding, Matthew said, "Very well then, Velanna; welcome to the Grey Wardens. Now, we need to get back to Vigil's Keep; we need to prepare for your Joining."

Walking through the final door at the other end of the room, the group finally came to the entrance of the silverite mine. Climbing the rickety stairs, Matthew was defiantly looking forward to the soft bed waiting for him back at the Keep.

Suddenly, at the top of the stairs, Matthew heard the unmistakable sound of battle just outside the mine's entrance. Drawing the Summer Sword from his back, Matthew ran back into the sunlight.

Before him was a large skirmish. Closest, and with their backs to, them were at least twenty hurlocks and genlocks of various ranks. Against them was a force of Amaranthine soldiers at least fifty strong.

Leading them were Seneschal Varel, Guard-Captain Garevel….and _Morrigan_.

Matthew always knew Morrigan was an excellent fighter, but he had never seen her like this. She was a one-woman army. She was carving up the darkspawn before the other men could even get in position.

Upon seeing Matthew, she unleashed a massive blast of pure energy. Every darkspawn was thrown back. Most were killed outright when they struck the cliff or the ground, the rest broken and crippled. These were quickly finished off by the soldiers. Suddenly, Matthew was almost knocked to the ground. Looking down, he saw it was Morrigan, and she was crying hysterically. Embracing his wife, he whispered in her ear that he was alright, that everything was fine, until she finally calmed down. Looking up to Varel, Matthew said, "What in Andraste's name is going on here, Seneschal?"

Varel whipped the sweat from his brow, then said, "A few hours ago, your wife went ballistic; she was screaming that you were in danger, and that we take every available soldier at the Keep to come find you. How she knew about all this, I don't know, my lord."

_I do,_ Matthew thought. _Our rings._ The rosewood rings he and Morrigan wore were enchanted so as to create a link between the people wearing them. Matthew realized that Morrigan would have felt it when the emissary incapacitated him.

Leading his distraught love by the waist, Matthew said, "Come on men; let's get back to the Keep. And Varel, prepare another Joining; we have a new recruit for the Wardens."

**A.N.**

**I apologize for my delay in updating any of my stories. I had my wisdom teeth extracted recently, and I was not feeling up to updating my fics, or doing much of anything really. **

**Again, sorry for the delay. Please review**.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Matthew lead Morrigan down the hallways of Vigil's Keep to their room, his love clutching at him like a drowning sailor would clutch at a piece of flotsam, sobbing occasionally. The Warden-Commander tried to keep her as calm as he could, stroking her hair and whispering assurances in her ear, but nothing seemed to work. At last coming to their personal room, he undid the latch, led Morrigan through the door, then secured it behind them.

And found his face assaulted by Morrigan's lips as soon as he turned around.

"Morrigan, what are you-"

"Shut up!" the mage shrieked. "SHUT UP!" She continued assaulting him with her mouth and tongue as though she were starving and he was a grand feast she had just found. At the same time, she blindly began undoing the leather straps that held his armor together. Realizing what she intended, Matthew tried to stop her, but a large slap from his wife convinced him to let what was about to happen ,happen, so he returned her kisses, and began to undo her armor in return.

When their cuirasses finally fell down around their legs and they stepped out of them, Matthew suddenly grabbed Morrigan by the arms, spun her around, pressed her against the wall, and did his best to press every inch of his body against Morrigan's without crushing slightly rounded abdomen. He vagely thought that it would be rather rude to ignore their large, soft bed, but there simply wasn't time to get to it. Then, positioning himself properly, he thrusted his hips forward and up, driving his erect member into Morrigan's folds.

The effect was immediate; Morrigan immediately broke off their kiss and began moaning like a banshee. Matthew didn't mind that; he simply latched his lips onto her neck and shoulders instead, at the same time continueing to thrust himself into her with increasing speed. For her part, Morrigan spread her left leg out, making the act easier, and wrapping one arm around his lower back to push him into her with increased force.

Matthew could never remember how long he and his wife stood their making love against the wall; it was one long blur of mindless pleasure. Finally, the happy, scared reunited couple were simply too exaughsted to continue. Picking up his wife in the bridal position he layed her down on their bed, curled up next to her, kissed her on the cheek, and closed his eyes. Within moments the happy couple was asleep.

**A.N. First smut scene ever. Embarrassed. Going to hide now. **

…**..**

**Okay, I'm back now.**

A few hours later, Matthew was awake, snuggled against his sleeping wife's back, one arm wrapped around her waist, and the other stroking her soft, jet black hair. Morrigan was always so beautiful when she was asleep. She looked peaceful; it seemed to be the one time when she could escape the scars her mother had inflicted upon her.

After a few more minutes, Morrigan stirred, and began blinking her still sleepy eyes. Matthew leaned his head over to her ear. "Emotional outbursts, risking everything to save someone, crying; who are you and what have you done with my Morrigan?" he teased.

"Be quite, fool," the women hissed, spinning around to embrace him, burying her face in his chest.

"It…it was horrible," Morrigan started ranting. "The thought that I'd lose you…that I'd have to raise our child without you… it was too much..I couldn't.."

"Sh, sh," Matthew whispered. "It's alright, Morrigan. I'm here; I'm safe; nothing is going to happen. Everything is going to be fine."

Finally, Morrigan regained control of herself. Looking at him frankly, she asked, "In any event, how were you captured exactly?" Sighing, Matthew explained.

"A darkspawn emissary ambushed us in the silverite mine, and cast a sleeping hex on us; simple, yet effective."

"An emissary," Morrigan said with mocking astonishment. "As in a darkspawn mage?" She started laughing hysterically. "Oh, this is grand; Matthew Cousland, a man of unparalleled templar abilities, is brought down by a single MAGE!"

"It was a very powerful emissary, Morrigan," Matthew muttered, annoyed in part because of his wife's teasing, and in part because of the fact that he himself wielded his most hated foes own abilities. In the aftermath of Ostagar, when the group was having trouble with mages, both hostile apostates and darkspawn, Matthew had asked Alistair to teach him how to wield Templar anti-magic. Alistair, as it turned out, had been an excellent teacher; calm, but firm and unyielding. It was, in fact, these lessons that convinced him that Alistair would make a good king. When they had come to the Circle tower, and he had seen the true face of the Templar Order, Matthew had been sickened by his decision, but the fight against the darkspawn had forced him to keep using his abilities.

"Oh, this is precious," Morrigan wheezed, her husband's feeble protest only serving to strengthen her mirth. "I'm Matthew Cousland," she said, in a mocking imitation of his own voice. "I can march across the breadth and width of Fereldan 10 times in a year, end civil wars, bring mages, templars, dwarves, and elves under my thumb, and kill 5 enormous dragons at the same time, but I can't kill a single foe that I was specifically trained to defeat." With that, Morrigan started rolling around on the bed, laughing so hard Matthew was amazed that her lungs did not burst.

"Morrigan," he shouted, "shut up, or I swear by all that is holy, I will Smite you!"Morrigan stopped laughing immediately, and looked at him with a terrified expression. The Templar ability that all mages feared most was the Holy Smite, an ability that allowed the warrior to strike out mentally at his or her foes in a sizable area, tearing at the very soul of those caught in it and hitting them with a powerful shockwave that knocked down its targets. While anyone could be affected by a Holy Smite, it was doubly potent on mages; it reacted with the mages mana, absorbing it and causing additional harm to the mage based on the amount of mana neutralized. While a mage could resist a Smite, shrugging the affect on its mana off entirely, it was an uncertain thing.

"You wouldn't," Morrigan whispered, horrified. Immediately recognizing his error, and having no wish to have his ass burnt off when Morrigan decided she would rather be angry than shocked, he smiled evilly, and whispered huskily, "What is the matter, Morrigan? I thought you enjoyed being Smited." Morrigan looked at him as if he had lost his mind and, clearly not understanding his meaning, said, "And why in Thedas would I want to- OH!" She yelped in surprise as Matthew's index finger stroked her private areas.

"You cheeky son of a bitch," she exclaimed, half perturbed and half amused.

"How dare you, women," Matthew responded in mock outrage. "My mother was a saint." Giggling, the two again threw themselves at each other, with the intention of-

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Jumping in surprise at the intrusion, Matthew called, "Who's there?" trying, and failing, to be polite.

"Seneschal Varel, Commander," was the reply. "The nobles of Amaranthine have come to pledge their oaths of loyalty to you."

"Can't this wait, Varel?" Matthew asked, not willing for his time with his wife to be cut short.

"I'm afraid not, Commander. Please come down as quickly as possible." With that, the couple heard the Seneschal's retreating steps.

Sighing in defeat, Matthew stood up, and started pulling on the clothing he wore under his armor. "Alright Morrigan, let's go."

"Why me," she complained. "Why do I have to be there? YOU are the Arl."

"And YOU are the Arlessa." Matthew replied. "Therefore, you need to be there. Now come over here, and help me get my armor back on." Sighing, Morrigan complied, helping him strap his new Stormchaser heavy chainmail back onto his body.

"I hate this, you know," she whispered in his ear seductively. "I much prefer you out of your armor."

Chuckling, Matthew said, "I know; that's why I make you put it back on."

"Bastard."

oo-00-oo

Matthew stood in the main hall of the Keep, Seneschal Varel to his left, Morrigan to his right. The various lords and ladies that commanded independent fiefdoms within the Arling stood in a sizable group before him. Their expressions ranged from hopeful, to pitying, to uncertain, to mistrust, to open contempt. It was not difficult to understand the last groups reasons; up until recently, these had been Rendon Howe's vassals. A great many of them had lost influence, land, and prestige when Matthew had skewered the traitorous snake. Truth be told, he had expected his reception to be far worse.

Stepping forward, Varel proclaimed, "Lords and Ladies, I present the Warden-Commander of Fereldan, and Arl of Amaranthine."

"Commander," one of the lords said, kneeling down.

"Arise," Matthew said simply, gesturing for the man to stand.

Then, he turned to the other gathered nobles, and began to speak.

"My lords and ladies. You know who I am; I am Matthew Cousland, the man who killed your previous liege lord, Rendon Howe. You all know why I did so; you know that Howe, in the dead of night, launched an assault on Castle Cousland and slaughtered all within, including my mother, father, sister-in-law, and nephew, though I am sure that none of you would ever had knowingly participated in such an atrocity." The shifting looks of several of the nobles present was all he needed in order for him to know that that was NOT the case.

"However," he continued, "none of that is relevant now. There is but one thing that we must focus our attention on; the darkspawn remnants. For though the Blight has been ended, the remains of the horde that besieged Denerim have not retreated, and remain to terrorize this fair Arling. They must be wiped out, immediately, and by all means necessary."

Looking into the crowd, he saw that the mention of darkspawn attacks scared many of those assembled; during the Blight, Amaranthine had escaped relatively unscathed, not facing serious troubles with the monsters until afterward.

"Perhaps there are some who say that, weakened as the Arling is, that we cannot accomplish this task," Matthew continued. "That we should simply cut our losses and flee. To those who say, or hear such poison, remember this; NOTHING is difficult; EVERYTHING is a challenge. Through adversity, to the stars. From the last blade, to the last bolt, to the last minute, to the last man, we fight. We FIGHT!"

The ending of his speech was met with more enthusiasm than he had expected. While all clapped politely, several were applauding with far more vigor. In addition, several of the nobles who had looked hostile to him before now looked less angry, and looked at him with new interest. It seemed that he had convinced a few of them to give him a chance.

_Good,_ he thought. _I'm going to need all the support I can get. _

Stepping forward, Varel spoke up. "Bann Esmerelle, as is old custom, you have the honor of beginning."

A women with a scrunched up face stepped forward. She looked as if someone had shoved an invisible dung pile under her nose. Bowing slightly, she said, "I promise that I, Bann Esmerelle, will be faithful to the arl in matters of life, limb, and earthly honor. Never will I bear arms against him or his heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker." No sooner had the last word left her lips, she turned and marched back to the group of nobles.

Matthew's eyes narrowed. The woman was going to be trouble, he was certain of it. She had displayed no real commitment to the oath she had just sworn; the words had dropped from her mouth like lead bricks. In addition, he could practically feel resentment radiating off of her. Apparently, she didn't realize the threat the darkspawn posed, or simply didn't care. She must have been Rendon's strongest supporter for her to ignore such a large threat for petty hatred.

The next then stepped forward. "I promise that I, Lord Eddelbreck…"

oo-00-oo

After all the nobles had sworn allegiance to him, they remained to partake of some refreshments, and socialize. Matthew bristled against it; it was all a game of politics and influence, and REAL work needed to be done. It was sickening.

_I wouldn't last two minutes in Orlais_, he thought. According to Leliana, the Orliesian Empire's nobility was far worse than Fereldan's ever was, entirely focused around "the great game", a meaningless competition of intrigue, fought over land and influence with Empress Celene. They did not do so openly, as it would be seen as rude and undermine their efforts, so instead they unleashed subtle and underhanded plots to discredit their foes, or enhance themselves.

_One day, that will change,_ Matthew thought grimly. _All those inhibitions will fall away, and the so-called nobility of Orlais will shatter into who knows how many warring fiefdoms, just like Fereldan used to be. _

Coming back to his present situation, Matthew leaned over to Seneschal Varel, and whispered, "Who do I need to know here?"

Responding, Varel said, "Lord Eddelbreck controls most of the Arling's farmland. He is powerful, popular with the people, and appears to be very supportive of you. Bann Esmerelle runs the city of Amaranthine, and is rather…prickly. She may not be liked, but she cannot be ignored." Nodding, Matthew took a sip of wine from his glass, and walked into the proverbial swamp.

When he came up to Lord Eddelbrek, the man immediately bowed his head to him, and said, "Warden-Commander, it is an honor to have you as our Arl."

"Thank you," Matthew replied. "Lord Eddelbrek, have we met before; you seem familiar."

"I was a close friend of your father, so you may have seen me during one of my visits to Highever. I am glad you have done well for yourself, Matthew Cousland. Your father would be proud of you, I am sure." He paused, and then his face darkened. "Commander, I wish to inform you that I had no part in, or was even aware of, Rendon Howe's plot against your family. I would never willingly participate in such a horrendous atrocity against a friend, and I would have opposed him had I known of it."

"Thank you, Lord Eddelbrek," Matthew responded. "Any friend of my father's is a friend of mine. However, Rendon Howe is dead and burned; the darkspawn must be the focus of our attention now."

"Indeed, Commander," Eddelbrek sighed. "You have come to us during desperate times."

"Not more about your precious farms, Eddelbrek," a nearby noble complained.

"SOME of us do not have the protection of city walls," Eddelbrek shot back. "Out on the plains, the situation is dire. The darkspawn are destroying crops and slaughtering livestock. The peasants are all starving, or worse."

"The city's defenses are more important, Eddelbrek," the noble replied snobbishly. Eddelbrek was about to respond, but Matthew beat him to it.

"Ser," the Warden-Commander hissed, "I suggest that you remember that it is because of those farmers that you are able to eat. There may be grain stored now, but it WILL run out. Then what will you do, eat the stone walls?"

"So you would leave the greatest jewel of the Arling defenseless?"

Matthew turned his head to see Bann Esmerelle approaching. "I fail to see why the commoner's dwellings deserve such protection, Arl. Their pathetic lodgings can be rebuilt with straw and mud, but Amarathine was built over generations. You would leave it helpless over some meaningless peons?"

It was very hard for Matthew not to crush the glass he was holding in rage. "We NEED those farmers, Esmerelle. Armies march on their stomachs, as you are no doubt aware. We can't wage war on the darkspawn if our men can't eat. And you are wrong; Amaranthine is not helpless. It has its walls, not to mention its guardsmen, which I am sure you are sparing no expense expanding and upgrading, especially due to those smugglers I heard about when last I visited."

Esmerelle's mouth immediately became a thin line. "I do not need instruction on how to properly run my own city, Commander." She had the air of someone who was hiding something.

Realization dawned on Matthew. _She's in on the smuggling operation,_ He thought. _They're probably paying her off and providing all the luxurious things that have dried up in this fight so that she'll let them operate free of interference, silvering and biting everyone else just for things they need to survive. I ought to kill her where she stands!_

Just then, Morrigan walked over, asking, "Having a good time, love," voice filled with sarcasm. In one hand she held a small plate with an eight inch high pile of cream puffs on it. _Wonderful, _Matthew groused. _I have a selfish, corrupt noble bitch to deal with, and now Morrigan's cravings have started. I foresee no way this day can improve. _

Esmerelle turned to Morrigan, sneered at her, and said, "You shouldn't eat so many of those, _Arlessa; _they are not good for your health."

Morrigan responded with an even more impressive sneer, and then shot back with, "Bann Esmerelle, my great-grandmother ate twice as many cream puffs every day of her life. She lived to be one hundred and two years old, and when she had been DEAD for three days, she looked better than YOU do NOW."

Esmerelle turned pale with rage, and then stormed from the hall as Matthew wandered off, smirking into his wine glass.

_How about that; I was wrong. _

Just then he felt a hand on his elbow. Turning, he saw a rather short, blonde women holding onto him. "My lord I must speak to you; it is very urgent."

"Ser Tamra, correct?" Matthew replied.

The knight nodded. "Yes my lord. Please, we must speak in private."

"Very well."

Leading him to a slightly more isolated area of the hall, Ser Tamra turned to him and said, "Commander Cousland, I have intercepted messages between several of the other nobles. Individually, they are not possible to decipher, but together, they spell out something sinister." She paused, checked to make sure no one was listening in, then continued; "Commander, I believe they intend to assassinate you."

Matthew snorted. "How cute," was his only reply.

Tamra blanched. "My lord do you not understand? They intend to-"

"Yes, I know they want me dead, Tamra," Matthew interrupted. "I am simply not frightened of a bunch of fat slobs shelling out gold for someone more competent to do their dirty work for them. Deliver the messages to me, and I will deal with this inconvenience."

Tamra stared, and then said, "Yes, my lord," before rejoining the festive. Matthew drained the rest of his wine in one gulp, extremely annoyed. Not only did he have to referee the nobles, he had to take time out of his busy schedule in order to deal with wanna-be assassins, and he the darkspawn incursions to defeat, AND deal with his wife's now chaotic and unstable emotional state. How could this get any worse?

Scanning his Warden recruits, he found his answer.

_WHERE IN ANDRASTE'S NAME IS ANDERS!_

**A.N. The last part of Matthew's motivational speech was lifted directly from the movie Red Tails. If you have not seen it, do so immediately; it is a good movie, and contains a message that everyone must hear. **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Matthew marched up the path to the city of Amaranthine for the second time. With him were Nathaniel, Oghren, and Velanna, who had survived her Joining. Currently, she was garbed in a set of heavy chainmail armor, and armed with a heavily enchanted shield they had found in the darkspawn base and an ancient, powerful blade called Dumat's Spine, though whether the sword had actually be forged from the first Archdemon's vertebrae, no one knew. The reason for Velanna's change in arms and armor was because after her joining, Matthew had her learn Arcane Warrior spells and Battlemage magic, which complimented each other very well. Velanna had stubbornly refused to learn any "shemlen" magic at first, but after he explained to her that Arcane Warrior magic was elven in origin, her attitude had turned around completely, enough to learn the Battlemage arts.

Matthew's goals in the city were fourfold; first, he had to locate Anders and, if the Templars had captured him, burn the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer to the ground. Second, he needed to track down a few hunters who supposedly had a lead about an entrance to the Deep Roads. Third, he had to destroy the city's smuggler ring. Finally, he needed to somehow locate someone that went by the name of Dark Wolf. After telling Seneschal Varel about the conspiracy on his life, Varel had suggested several ways to undermine them, locating the illusive information broker being one of them.

_First things first,_ Matthew thought. _I need to find Anders. _

_Why you are wasting your time and energy on looking for that imbecile, I'll never know. _Morrigan sounded extremely annoyed.

Matthew smiled down at the rosewood ring on his finger. After the ceremony with the nobility of the Arling, Morrigan had altered the spell on their two rings. Now, so long as they were within a certain distance of each other, they could communicate mentally, and could even use their abilities through the link to help each other, should either one be engaged in battle. However, if they went past that distance, which was about past the Arlling's borders, the enchantment would revert to what it was originally; they would only be able to tell the other's condition, location, and their general emotional state.

Behind him, he was surprised to hear Velanna strike up a conversation with Oghren.  
>"Is it true what they say about your people, Oghren?" she asked. "That they are dying out, the darkspawn always clawing at the gates of Orzammar?"<p>

For what had to be the first time, Oghren looked subdued and pensive. "Yes, and yes," the dwarven berserker said. "It's only a matter of time."

Velanna frowned. "We elves are also few in number, and each of us is precious. We all do our best help every member of our species. But you, you isolate your casteless, forbid them from working or fighting, simply for the accident of birth?"

Oghren snorted. "Yeah, well, the Noble Cast has a giant pole stuck up its collective butt; a pole called 'tradition'." Gesturing to Matthew, he continued. "It's a damn good thing that the boss put Prince Bhelen on the throne; the boy was unsavory, but he had made it his mission in life to rip that pole out, and beat the nobles into submission with it."

Smirking at the mental image of King Bhelen Aeducan beating a dwarven noble with manure-coated stick, Matthew stepped through the gates of the city. Just as he did, however, a city guardsman stepped up to him, holding some sort of missive. "My pardon, ser," the guard said, "but I was paid a whole sovereign to deliver this letter to you."

Taking the missive, Matthew replied, "Thank you for the message. Good day." Bowing the guard stepped back into her position. Opening the envelope, the Warden-Commander took out the letter, and read thus:

_Warden-Commander,_

_Meet me in front of the gates leading to the city's keep. I have an offer you can't refuse. _

_ The Dark Wolf. _

Smirking, Matthew thought, _Well, it seems that finding the Dark Wolf will be easier than I thought._

_Be careful, love,_ Morrigan said, voice laced with concern. _If the past is any indication, these things usually lead to ambushes. _

_True, _he replied, _but we still need information on the conspirators, and the Dark Wolf is our best bet in that regard. _

Passing through the gates, Matthew turned left and began walking up the street of the city's market district. He paused at Octham the Grocer's stall, though, when he spotted a tome placed upon it. Taking a closer look, he made out the words written on the cover; 'Fading Away: A Warrior's Guide to Harnessing the Spirits of the Fade'.

_That would be very useful, _Matthew thought. So, he purchased the tome and placed it in his pack, intent on learning how to use these talents later.

Just then, a short way away, Matthew spotted his first objective; Anders stood by the Merchant's Guild board, talking with their leader, Mervis. He immediately ran up to the mage, though whether to check if he was alright or to strangle him he didn't know.

Upon spotting his Commander, Anders said, "Ah, Commander Cousland, there you are! I was just explaining to Mervis here that the attacks on the merchants in Wending Wood should end now."

"I thank you, Commander, for taking interest in our plight," Mervis said to Matthew. "I hope the culprits have been brought to justice."

Taking a quick glance at Velanna, who was now pale as a sheet, Matthew replied, "In a manner of speaking, yes they have."

"That is good to here, Commander," Mervis replied. "I believe that I promised a donation to your order for assisting us in this matter." He handed Matthew a sack of gold sovereigns, saying "Thank you again, Warden." Then he walked back to the Merchant's Guild's Headquarters.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Matthew rammed into Anders, pinned him against a wall, grabbed him by the collar of his robes, and shouted, "Where in the Void were you, Anders?"

"I was taking care of some personal business," the mage spluttered.

Shoving his face into Anders's until their noses were almost touching, Matthew snarled, "Anders, I was beginning to think that either the Templars had captured you or you had deserted; BOTH would result in your head and body no longer being in contact with each other. Now you will tell me what you were doing, AND YOU WILL TELL ME NOW!"

"Ok, ok," Anders stammered. Matthew let go of him, and the mage rubbed his collar bone. "Grouch," he whispered. Then, he took a deep breath, and began to explain himself.

"Alright, Commander, if you must know, I was looking for my phylactery. The Templar's moved the Circle's stores from Denerim to Amaranthine, to protect them from the darkspawn. It's why they were able to capture me the first time; they thought I was going to board passage on a ship, but it was actually to meet with a woman I hired to check to see if my phylactery was among them. From what she was able to tell, it is."

Closing his eyes, shaking his head, and holding up his hands, Matthew asked, "Back up a bit, Anders. What is a phylactery?"

"A phylactery is a sample of someone's blood," Anders explained. "Whenever a mage is taken to a Circle of Magi, the Templars take a small amount of blood from them. That way, if the mage tries to make a break for it, like me, the Templars can track them down."

Matthew felt as if the second part of Anders's explanation was spoken at the end of a long tunnel. He was feeling as if a rage demon had possessed him; his vision turned blood red, his hands clenched into fists, his teeth were bared, and he was shaking with fury. He felt Morrigan try to say something to him, but couldn't understand her; her words didn't make any sense.

Making a visible effort to reign in his emotions, Matthew closed his eyes, and said through clenched teeth, "Anders, are you telling me that the Templars have slaughtered countless innocents, imprisoned every mage they could find, and refuse to listen to any amends to their behavior in the name of eradicating blood magic, _and yet they use it themselves!" _

"Yep," Anders replied cheerfully. "Pretty hypocritical of them, isn't it."

Matthew was angered beyond accurate description by the mage's confirmation. He was enraged. Livid. Furious. Frenzied. And lots of other adjectives he couldn't even think of at the moment.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning sparked from the rosewood ring and hit him on the finger, causing Matthew to jump and cry out in pain and surprise.

_Ah, THAT got your attention, _Morrigan said, voice dripping with acid. _If you ever ignore me like that again, I will make you dance like a puppet on strings. _

Matthew sent her a savage mental smile. _How about you make some fool Templars dance, instead._

_Is Alistair one of them?_ His wife asked hopefully.

_No. _

Morrigan's disappointment was almost palpable. _A pity, but I will settle for some nameless Chantry servants instead. _

Turning to his followers, Matthew shouted, "Forget the smugglers, and forget the hunters. We have bigger fish to fry. Anders, where is the phylactery storehouse?"

"In that building, right at the end of the street," the mage replied.

"Let's go," the Commander ordered.

Thus, the group of Wardens marched towards the Templar's hideout. As they walked, Matthew's anger, temporarily dispelled by his conversation with Morrigan, reignited as he approached the disguised warehouse, until he felt like he had ignited and turned into a massive fireball. Most warriors would say this was a grave error to let one's emotions rule their hand, but Matthew had, with Oghren's help, learned how to channel his rage, to control it, instead of it controlling him. He too was a Berserker, and the Templar Order was going to learn to fear him.

Opening the door, the group stepped inside, and was presented with a large, spacious storeroom, with several crates lining the walls. "No guards," Anders commented, evidently confused. "Maybe they don't want to draw attention to the cache. Could we be that lucky?"

Matthew and Morrigan were less impressed by the development. Looking around, Matthew went through the crates and chests in the room, finding several enchanted gloves, boots and robes for mages, as well as several herbal supplies. Then, the group stepped through the door into a smaller room further in.

And immediately found themselves facing three Templars, one of which was the women who had tried to arrest Anders at Vigil's Keep.

"And here I almost believed that the infamous Anders wouldn't take the bait," she said.

"Ah, yes," Anders said, with only mild surprise. "I suppose it would be you."

"Silence, Maleficar," the templar shouted. "You will enslave these people no longer!" And with that, she pulled out a tome, and began to recite from it. As soon as she finished, a wave of blue energy spread from her feet, and passed through everyone present. Matthew felt no change whatsoever.

"Warden-Commander, I am Knight-lieutenant Rylock. You were ambushed and mind-controlled by this blood mage." Holding up the tome, she continued. "This is-"

"The Litany of Adralla," Matthew interrupted. "It ends blood magic mind domination, disrupts attempts to dominate minds, and prevents further attempts of mind domination from being successful. I've used it while I was saving Fereldan's Circle of Magi. And you didn't need to bring it. Anders is no blood mage, and my Warden's and I were never enthralled."

Rylock blanched; the fact that someone would aid an apostate willingly was inconceivable to her. "Why," she asked.

"I recruited him because I needed to rebuild Fereldan's Grey Wardens, and because Anders was innocent. Darkspawn killed the Templars who were escorting him, and it was the one good service the beasts ever did Thedas."

Rylock looked at the Warden-Commander with a mixture of shock and fury. "How can you say that? We do the Maker's work!"

Matthew scoffed. "If the 'Maker's work' means imprisoning, torturing, and raping any mage you find simply for having the gifts they were given, while at the same time slaughtering everyone and anyone who speaks out against you, than I am proud of the fact that our ancestors had enough sense to turn their backs on him." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter here anyway. I am giving you one chance, Rylock; both you and your men leave now and leave us in peace, or you suffer the consequences."

Rylock glared at him, and then unleashed a Holy Smite on the whole group.

It was not nearly as effective as the Templar had hoped it would be. Bracing themselves for the shockwave of the attack, Matthew and Oghren kept their feet, taking only minor damage from the assault. Velanna also weathered both the physical and mental assaults, due in no small part to her new Arcane Warrior abilities. Nathaniel and Anders were not so fortunate; while the latter was able to keep hold of his mana reserves, he was forced down to one knee, while Nathaniel was tossed into the other room. Drawling their blades, the Templars closed in.

Velanna and Oghren each took on one of Rylock's pets. The former exchanged several blows with their swords, before Velanna unleashed her Keeper magic on the Templar, entangling his sword arm with vines, and allowing the elf to decapitate the "holy" warrior. Oghren dodged a horizontal strike from his opponent, and then smashed the pommel of his greataxe into the Templar's gut, causing him to double over. Then, Oghren swung the axe upward, striking the Templar in the center of his faceplate and cutting half his head off. The corpse fell to the ground, the Templar's chin and lower jaw still attached to it.

While all this was happening, Matthew pointed his fist with the rosewood ring on it at Rylock, and shouted mentally, _Morrigan, Misdirection and Death hexes, now! _Safe in Vigil's Keep, Morrigan cast the two entropic spells on Rylock; the first would cause the majority of her attacks to miss, and the second would cause Matthew's blows to home in on her weak points like they were magnets. Gripping the Summer Sword with both hands, Matthew swung at Rylock's head. Though she blocked the attack with her shield, the sheer force of the blow sent her stumbling back.

Quickly advancing on her, Matthew rained blow after blow on Rylock, inflicting great damage to the Templar while taking almost none himself; Morrigan's skill at weaving entropic spells was second to no one he knew.

Finally, Matthew lashed out with a massive overhead blow, breaking Rylock's mace in two, and forcing her to drop to her knees and let the brocken cudgel go. Matthew struck again, this time sinking the Summer Sword deep into Rylock's Sun Shield. Pulling and throwing to the side, he tossed both his sword and the shield to the side and out of reach of Rylock, and then wrapped his hands around the Templar's neck, and began squeezing the life out of her.

Rylock tried to pull his hands off of her, but it was useless; his arms were like steel bands. When that failed, she tried hitting him on the arms and chest, but she might as well have hit him with a soft cushion for all the effect it had. Trying to pry his fingers off, she succeeded in doing so long enough to gasp, "Commander….stop…please…"

"I WARNED YOU!" Matthew shouted, his voice deep and demonic, while at the same time retightening his grip. "I told you that if you pressed this you would suffer the consequences for it. But you pressed this anyway. Now, I am going to send you to a deep, dark place, **and I am going to have FUN doing it!" **

The two combatants continued to struggle for the next twenty seconds, before Rylock's eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went limp. Matthew continued to keep his death grip on the Templar's neck for another twenty seconds to ensure the woman was dead. Then, he let go of her, letting her fall to the ground, and went back out to the other room and rejoined the others. Velanna was cleaning the blood from Dumat's Spine, Oghren was helping Anders to his feet, and Nathaniel had just reentered the room, bow drawn and arrow knocked.

Walking up to Matthew, Anders said, "I'm sorry for leading you into this, Commander. It was a dead end." He paused, and then added, "Thank you for helping me."

"No thanks necessary, Anders," Matthew replied, wrenching Rylock's shield off his blade. "I **despise **Templars."

Flashing his toothy grin, Anders retorted with, "That's because they're all jerks."

The Warden-Commander nodded; it was the truth. In all his travels, he had met only two Templars that could be described as decent people, Ser Otto and Ser Bryant, and both of them were dead.

Shaking his head, he said, "Come on people; we have smugglers to take care of now."


	15. Chapter 15

**A.N. It has come to my attention that has suddenly decided to enforce its rating system with an iron fist, and that thousands of fictions on the site are going to be wiped out. I have taken precautions against this, and saved the entirety of Inseparable, Dragon's Rage, and And We Shall Overcome on my computer, and if they get whipped out, I will try to start up again. If the site won't let me, send me a PM, and I will mail you a synopsis of the fiction or fictions you want. **

Chapter 15

Matthew, Velanna, Anders, Oghren, and Nathaniel were relaxing in the Crown and Lion inn, enjoying a short break from their doings. In addition to wiping out the smuggler den, they had also killed four blood mages that had taken up residence in the city. When a templar had approached him with detailed drawings of the suspected maleficarum, Matthew had accepted the task only with the intention of warning the mages that the Chantry's goons were on to them, and they should get away from the city immediately. However, when he approached the first of the apostates, the woman had shrieked, slit her wrist, and attempted to cast a Blood Wound spell, which would have caused their own blood to lacerate them from the inside out. Luckily, the woman was not using a mage's staff to channel her power, so she was forced to take a moment to channel the magic through her own body. This allowed Nathaniel to loose an arrow at her, which while it did not kill her, it did interrupt her spell long enough for Matthew to use a Holy Smite, which left the mage trembling on the ground, bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears, until Matthew stabbed her through the heart. Acknowledging the fact that his most hated foes were right for once, he led group in combing the city, slaughtered the other three blood mages, stripped them of their coin and equipment, and returned to the Chantry where they were rewarded with twenty sovereigns for their efforts.

About five of which had already been spent on the inn's spirits. Mainly by Oghren.

Looking over his Wardens, Matthew saw that they had divided into groups of two; Oghren and Anders were at one end of the bar, the former drinking as he usually did and the latter playing with Ser Pounce-a-Lot, while Nathanial and Valanna were at the other, the rogue sipping a pint of ale while the elven mage sat with her back to the wall looking at everyone in the room as though they were the scum of the earth. Which, given what the men looked like and were talking about, Matthew was inclined to agree with her.

For his part, Matthew was sitting at a table not far from Nathaniel and Velanna, reading his new Spirit Warrior instruction manual. While not true mages, Spirit Warriors were able to, with enough discipline, cast their minds into the fade and call upon the assistance of the benevolent spirits of the Fade, such as the spirits of Valor, Compassion, Fortitude, and Justice. In exchange for taste of the realm of mortals, the warrior would gain access to the power and abilities of the spirit, greatly augmenting the warrior's fighting prowess. The book warned numerous times that spirit warriors were often mistaken for mages and hunted by templars, but Matthew considered tweaking the Chantry's nose to be an added bonus. He resolved to begin practicing these new abilities as soon as possible.

From the other end of the bar, the Warden-Commander heard Oghren growl under his breath, and then say "Women are drawn to you when you play with that cat."

"Like moths to a flame," Anders replied proudly, dragging a piece of yarn along the ground and letting Pounce-a-Lot chase and attack it. "Women like it when you show affection for small, fuzzy, defenseless beings. Like you."

"Stupid…..mage," Oghren cursed vehemently. "Every time I pull something out of my robes, women just flee."

Rolling his eyes at the banter, Matthew looked near the door, and saw a notice board by the entrance, along with a wooden crate and a mug. Placing the Spirit Warrior book into his pack, he stood and walked over to the notice board, read the title, and started laughing. It was a notice for the "Blight Orfans", clearly a scam to cheat people out of money, likely set up by some of the inns costumers. Reading the request from the "children", he started slipping into hysteria; their requests, which included brandy and moonshine, made it even more blatantly obvious that is was a sham; no child would have any use for these things. Then, once he was able to breathe properly again, he read the last item. Instead of a request for money or other supplies, it was a request to perform a task, specifically to spread a nearby bowl of scented herbs on Revered Mother Morag's bed sheets. Looking at the bowls contents, an evil, vindictive smile spread across his face.

_What you are planning is incredibly immature, Matthew,_ Morrigan's voice echoed in his mind.

_I do not care, _was his reply.

He received the mental equivalent of a groan. _Oh, this is just lovely. Such a fine example you are setting for your child; soon we shall have every peasant, lord, and priest banging on our door, demanding we discipline our child so that he or she will desist with such tomfoolery. Is that what you want? _

_Morrigan, were you paying attention when I told you about what I was like as a child? I expect any child of mine to engage in pranks. Nay, I demand it!_

There was a pause, and then his wife said, _You do know that you will regret those words, correct?_

_Probably, but you wouldn't want our lives to be boring would you?_

_Perish the thought, _Morrigan snapped sarcastically. Then she was gone.

Grinning like a small child, Matthew pulled out his coin pouch, and filled the mug with silver and copper coins; the opportunity they had given him was worth every bit. Taking the bowl of not-scented herbs, he walked back to Nathaniel and Velanna; his time as the most wanted man in the country had taught him to never travel anywhere without someone to watch his back. As he drew nearer to Nathaniel and Velanna, however, he heard a heated and less than pleasant discussion.

"So," the elf began, "you not only gave up on killing the Grey Warden that murdered your father, but you actually joined the order."

"Are you trying to pick a fight, Velanna?" Nathaniel responded, his voice calm and collected, but rippling with anger. "Baiting me like this is juvenile."

"I just wanted to know how you felt," the mage defended.

"How do you feel knowing you murdered all those people because you were too arrogant to check your facts?"

"Warm and fuzzy."

"You are a horrible person." Nathaniel turned to get back to his ale, but then added, "And your ears are clownish."

Velanna reacted as though Nathaniel had slapped her in the face. "What? Who's being juvenile now?"

"That is enough, from both of you!" Matthew snapped. Once the two had stopped bickering, he said, "Nathaniel, I need to run an errand, and I need you to accompany me."

Nodding, the archer stood, and walked towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw Velanna look at Nathaniel's retreating form with a wistful expression for a split second before settling back into her usual disdainful look. Matthew shook his head to clear the image; Velanna did not look at anyone like that. She was the original Morrigan in elf form.

Increasing his pace to catch up with the rogue, the two exited the inn, and Matthew directed them toward the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer. Looking at his commander, Nathaniel asked, "What are we doing, sir?"

"The writers of the Blight Orfan's notice board want someone to spread these scented herbs on her bed," Matthew explained, gesturing to the bowl in his hand.

Nathaniel flinched, then half-screamed, "Commander, those aren't scenting herbs, those are rashvine nettles!"

A small, evil smile spread across Matthew's face. "I know," he replied.

Nathaniel blinked several times, and then asked, "What reason do you have to put rashvine in the revered mother's bed, sir."

"No reason," Matthew replied nonchalantly.

"Do you have a desire to strike out at the Chantry in any way, at any opportunity, Commander?" Nathaniel asked, somewhat in shock by his superior's blatant desire to engage in such a petty prank.

"What gave it away," Matthew replied, voice suddenly becoming much more serious. "My taking a wife who is a mage and not even attempting to hide the fact, or my chocking a Templar to death in full view of everyone present, or all the gossip between the nobles and priests about Bryce Cousland's younger son uprooting a bush in an attempt to stop his mother from dragging him to the building he hated even then?"

"You uprooted a bush?" Nathaniel gasped incredulously.

"I also wedged my first knife into a gap between two cobblestones so tightly no one could get it loose. To my knowledge, people are still stubbing their toes on the handle."

And with that, he motioned for the archer to continue, and the somewhat shell-shocked Nathaniel followed the Warden-Commander up the steps to the Chantry. However, when Matthew was reaching for the door handle, he noticed that Nathaniel was no longer with him. Turning, he saw the archer a short way away, staring at the statue of Andraste in front of the Chantry. Upon approaching him, Nathaniel, turned to Matthew, and said, "It figures, actually."

Matthew's eyes narrowed in confusion. "These statues are everywhere, Nathaniel; I don't understand your surprise."

"There was another statue here, until recently," Nathaniel explained. "One of my Uncle Byron. He died in the rebellion against the Orleasians. He was a hero. And now everything he and everything my ancestors is gone and forgotten. All because of what my father did."

Matthew's face softened, and for the first time, he regretted his asking Alistair to declare the Howes pariahs. What Rendon had done, both to his family and to others, were the most base and evil things that could be conceived by a mortal mind, but the Howes DID have a long and noble history, and he had, at least in part, obliterated it. Looking Nathaniel in the eye, he said, "I'll have them replace it."

"I appreciate the offer, Commander," Nathaniel replied. "But don't bother; no one will want to see it. Everyone in Fereldan thinks that my family's name is trash, and given what we know, they're right." The rogue clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and released it in an explosive growl. "Curse my father, and his idiot ambition!" Turning to Matthew he asked rhetorically, "He lost everything for us, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Matthew replied without pause. Then, walking up to the Howe, pointed at him, and said, "And it's up to YOU to turn that around."

Nathaniel smiled bitterly. "Not too much pressure, right?"

"Hey, I led a group of seven people and a dog to unite a nation and defeated the Fifth Blight in about a year. I'm sure you can redeem your family's name in no time flat if you really apply yourself."

Chuckling, Nathaniel looked back at the statue, and mused, "I wonder what happened to poor Uncle Byron. He's probably propping up the side of a Chantry somewhere." Shaking his head, he finished with, "Ah, statues are for pigeons. Let's get back to your ridiculously childish mission."

"Yes, please," Matthew responded enthusiastically.

Entering the Chantry, he told Nathaniel to keep an eye out for anyone, and then proceeded to the Grand Cleric's bedchamber at the rear of the Chantry, which, upon his inspection, was completely empty. While walking down the aisle, he noticed a book had been left behind. Picking it up, he saw the only thing on the cover was an embossed oak tree. Looking through the book for anything that could indicate who it belonged to, he discovered every page in the entire book was blank. With no one to return it to, and the missing party clearly not returning for it, Matthew placed the book in his pack; he might find a use for it later.

Continuing to the rear of the Chantry, he turned right, and entered the revered mother's chambers, which were also empty. Working quickly, he lifted up the covers, spread the rashvine in a thin layer on the bed, positioned the covers as they were before he came, and quickly left the scene. Motioning for Nathaniel to follow him, the two left the Chantry, Matthew snickering like a little boy, and Nathaniel rolling his eyes at such childishness.

However, when they reached the bottom of the steps, they both stopped in their tracks and cringed. Revered Mother Morag, flanked by two other chantry priests and four Templars, walking directly towards them. With no opportunity to avoid her, the two would simply have to put up with the woman, who was, undisputedly, the most selfish, petty, and greedy women in the Arling. Likely the reason the scammers wanted her to suffer the wrath of rashvine.

Once the group had reached them, Nathaniel knelt on the ground. Morag offered her signet ring to him with the air of someone giving a favor to a lesser being. Nathaniel kissed the ring quickly, and then stood. Morag then offered the ring to Matthew, who looked at it, and then looked her in the eye, not bending his spine an inch. Nathaniel, the other two priests, and the Templars all flinched.

Morag's slightly wrinkled face twisted with anger. "Arl Cousland, I trust you know that followers of the Chantry knell to kiss the ring of a Revered Mother?"

"I'm sure that they do," Matthew said simply, still staying upright.

He heard Nathaniel take a deep breath through his nose, and the two lower ranking priests' eyes widened in horror.

Morag's countenance became one of utter disgust. "I see that the Grey Wardens still see fit to include heathens in their ranks. That your order accepts those you do not follow the Maker is forever their greatest weakness."

"The fact that led a single nation to end a whole Blight in little over one year belies your argument," Matthew replied, his voice barely polite.

With one final dirty look, Morag stepped past him, followed by her Templar guards and one of the priests. The second, a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties, however, stayed behind, and once the group had passed, she said, "My lord, I apologize for the Revered Mother's rudeness. She is…overzealous in ensuring that the Maker's word is spread to and believed by all."

"She is an obnoxious, greedy, conceited, arrogant, bitch who only cares about what can bring prestige and coin to her, ma'am," Matthew responded without pause. "As are almost all members of the Chantry. And you know it. Miss…?"

"Julia. Mother Julia. And I feel that you are mistaken, Warden-Commander," she said, clearly unhappy with his analysis. "All of those who take up the cloth are fully committed to all morals and laws, both those set forward by the Divine, and the Kings of men."

Crossing his arms, Matthew asked, "Then why did three Templars spit on BOTH sets of laws, attack me and my men, and attempted to take one of my Wardens under arrest when they had no authority to do so?"

Mother Julia's eyes widened in shock, and explained, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Knight-Lieutenant Rylock, along with two accomplices, laid a trap for one of my Wardens, and demanded I turn him over to her. I refused, and she immediately unleashed a Holy Smite on me, and all the Wardens present. Those three Templars defied a treaty signed by the very first Divine, committed high treason, and _attempted to assassinate me!_ Given all this information, do you think that I would have a high opinion of the Chantry at the moment?"

Mother Julia, whose face had gone white as a sheet, looked down at the ground, and murmured, "No."

"I didn't think so," Matthew replied. Then, he turned and marched back to the Crown and Lion inn, Nathaniel close behind.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

_One month later…._

Bann Esmerelle marched up the road to Stark Farm, fury and murderous purpose driving her forward. She hardly noticed where her feet were taking her; her mind was filled with images of hate, all of it directed at one man, no, one _child; _Matthew Cousland. The son of the Orlesian bootlicker had lived long enough. When that uppity rat had murdered Rendon Howe, he had destroyed her fortunes, as well as all she could have gained. Howe had promised her the throne of the Arling of Amaranthine once he had seized the Tyrner of Highever. Now that would never happen, thanks to the good man's death at Cousland's hand. Now, to rub salt in the wound, he had taken the Arling's forces away from her city in order to protect _peasants_, the seedy, unwashed, worthless lives that were already too numerous for her taste, and he had slaughtered the smugglers that were keeping her and her allies supplies and luxuries that had become even more valuable in the days following the Blight.

The annoyance had gone on long enough. This little boy with delusions of grandeur had to be dealt with.

Approaching the farmhouse from behind, she noticed that her coalition of nobles hadn't set up any guards. Shaking her head, she resolved to chew the fools out for their foolishness. Rounding the corner of the farmhouse, she opened her mouth to scold them for their amateur mistake-

And felt her jaw open in horror.

Every one of her allies, Lord Guy, Lady Packton, several other minor nobles, and the Antivan Crows they had hired were all dead, their bodies spread from one end of the small farm to the other, twisted in all sorts of positions, and covered in all means of grotesque injuries. Some were cut in two, several were decapitated, at least two disemboweled, one killed with her own sword, and at least three burned or frozen.

And standing in the center of the carnage, armor and sword coated with blood, was Matthew Cousland.

Terror. Pure terror filled her as the Grey Warden turned to her, and looked her in the eye. Everything about him screamed that he was her death; the long, braided red hair, the shinning white steel armor, the intricate tattoos that decorated his face, and the bright blue eyes filled with sheer hatred and bloodlust, and the glowing purple aura around him. It was at that point that she realized just how foolish she had been. This was no child playing at war; this was a warrior, one that held no equal and commanded forces beyond the ordinary.

And now she was at his mercy.

Pulling the tip of his blade out of the ground, he held it at the ready at his side, and then spoke. Though he whispered, Esmerelle could hear every word plain as day.

"Well, Bann Esmerelle? Are you going to leave me be, or do I have to get tough?"

The she had been holding anything in her hands at the time, she would have dropped them in sheer terror. She turned and ran. She had no chance against him and they both knew it. She only hoped he didn't shoot her before he made good her escape.

o-00-o

Matthew smiled grimly at the fleeing "noblewomen". He could have easily shot her as she fled, but kept his hands at his side. Killing a bunch of people who were actively plotting his assassination was one thing; killing a woman who was actively fleeing for her life, and against which he had no evidence of guilt, was murder.

_Yes, let the little snake go. _Morrigan's voice gushed with scathing sarcasm. _It is a splendid idea to let someone actively plotting your demise live. _

_She needs allies in order to move against us, Morrigan, _He replied. _Whom we have just slaughtered. And after learning about this, I REALLY doubt anyone will be willing to help Esmerelle. Most of the remaining nobles support me, and those that don't certainly will not throw in their lot with her after news of our demolishing these fools. _

_I suppose there is no point in arguing it, _Morrigan relented. _What is done is done. _

Matthew paused, slightly disconcerted by Morrigan's voice; she sounded very much worn out. 

_Morrigan, are you alright; you sound exhausting. _

_Oh, why would you think that, _Morrigan snapped. _It is not as if I am seven months with child, and I have just weaved several strong spells a few minutes ago. 'Tis a mystery indeed why I would be tired. _

Her words sent a burst of panic through him, suddenly concerned for the health of his wife and unborn child. Before he could voice his concerns, however, Morrigan began shrieking at him.

_MATTHEW COUSLAND, if you dare start behaving as if I am some delicate flower that must be fussed over, I WILL SET YOU ON FIRE!_

_Ok, ok, ok, _Matthew responded quickly. He paused, and then muttered, "Geez, you try to show this woman a little concern, and she acts like it's a declaration of war."

Flames sprang up from the rosewood ring almost immediately.

_NO NO NO NO NO, I TAKE IT BACK!_

The orange flames flickered for a moment, and then extinguished themselves. Matthew breathed a sigh of relief.

Right before the fire reignited and burned the top of his hand, causing him to scream, first in agony and then in obscenity filled rage directed at his beloved, who was sporting enough to ignore him.

Gritting his teeth, Matthew reached into his pack, and took out a small poultice that was infused with elfroot plant juices and a warmth balm, which was enchanted to lessen the damage of heat injuries, and a bandage. First, he spread the warmth balm over the burn, sighing with relief as he felt the injury cool noticeably, then placed the poultice on the burn, and rapped the bandage around it.

Standing up, the Commander surveyed the scene, satisfied with events of the day thus far, apart from his wife's tantrum. An assassination attempt thwarted, his strongest political opponent in the Arling was rendered impotent; all in all, a good day. He had been especially impressed with his new Spirit Warrior abilities; while currently only able to ally with the Fade's weaker benevolent denizens, the results were already substantial. His reaction time was improved enormously, allowing him to dodge his opponents attacks easily.

As he was about to turn and leave however, he spotted a piece of paper sticking out of one of the traitor's pockets. Driven by curiosity, he reached down and pulled the piece of paper out of the pocket. Upon seeing the broken seal, he knew that this was a letter from another noble, likely part of this conspiracy. Opening the letter and smoothing it out, he realized it was written in cipher. Fortunately, he found a piece of paper containing the means to translate it in the most obvious hiding place possible; a hidden compartment in the man's boot. Silently thanking the corpse for its former owner's stupidity, he sat down, and deciphered the letter, writing the translation on a piece of blank vellum he had with him. Upon finishing, he picked up his copy, and read it from beginning to end, his formerly good mood souring with every word. Finishing the letter, he gathered his copy, the original letter, and the cipher, placed them in his pack, and began the return trip to Vigil's Keep.

He still had work to do.

o-00-o

Turning the last bend in the road, he saw Vigil's Keep a short way in the distance. It was much more impressive than he had seen it in awhile, or even when he first saw it. Thanks to the granite deposit he had found in Wending Wood, the fortress was being rebuilt even stronger than it was before the initial darkspawn attack. Most of the damage still needed to be repaired, and the original wooden walls were slowly being removed in favor of the new stone ramparts, but if what he was seeing was any indication, Vigil's Keep was going to arise from its defeat more resilient than ever.

After a few more hours walking, he entered the Keep through its new oak gates. After seeing the darkspawn completely destroy the original gates, Matthew had spared no expense in upgrading the fortress's entrances as well as its walls. In addition, he had spent several weeks helping to clear out the basement beneath the Keep, which seemed to stretch down to the deep roads. That job had currently hit a wall, or to be more accurate a giant pile of rubble. Workers were currently hard at work removing the debris, but he was still worried; until he could find a way to ensure the path to the Deep Roads was sealed, the darkspawn could always launch another attack from the ground. And given that they were now becoming more intelligent and gained a leader, the possibility of that happening was far greater than usual.

Passing through the second gatehouse, he watched as a group of soldiers marched past him, outfitted in shining silverite armor. In addition to the granite, the old silverite mine Matthew had cleared of darkspawn allowed for Wade and Herran, two blacksmiths he had encountered during the Blight and who had come to Vigil's Keep, to outfit the soldiers with the ore.

Heading towards the keep, he found Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel waiting for him outside. Upon noticing him, the duo marched up to him. From the set of their jaws and anger in their step, Matthew could tell they were upset with him, a suspicion that was confirmed the moment the first words exited Varel's mouth.

"Forgive the insubordination, Commander," the Seneschal hissed through clenched teeth, "but where in the VOID have you been?"

"I was taking a walk," Matthew replied calmly. "Seeing the sights, enjoying the sunshine, wiping out a group of traitorous nobles bent on assassinating me."

Upon hearing what he said, and the incredibly offhand manner in which he said it, both the seneschal and the captains' mouths dropped open.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Varel stammered, "but, what did you just say?"

"I wiped out a group of nobles bent on assassinating me," Matthew repeated. "Come now, Varel, I told you about this plot earlier, didn't I?"

"Yes, Commander, but why in the Maker's name did you go alone?" Varel demanded.

"I was not alone, Seneschal," Matthew replied, holding up his bandaged hand with Morrigan's rosewood ring on it. "This ring doesn't just sit on my finger and look pretty. There is a link between this ring, and the one that my wife wears. It allows us to communicate with each other, and allows her to weave spells through the link."

"Your wife is weaving combat level magic," Geravel spoke up. "I am no expert on magic, Warden-Commander, but given her condition, that hardly seems wise."

"I attempted to tell her the same thing," Matthew explained. "Hence, the bandage. In any case, what were the two of you so worked up about?"

"Today is scheduled as a court hearing, Commander," Varel explained. "And YOU are supposed to be presiding over it."

"Why," Matthew questioned, both annoyed and confused. "Wouldn't that be a job for a magistrate?"

"Normally, yes," Captain Geravel said. "However, the criminals in question have committed crimes against you or other nobles in the Arling, and as you have the right of high justice, you preside over them."

Matthew groaned, then answered, "Very well, let's get this over with," and began walking toward the Keep. The three entered the Keep, and went through to maze of hallways leading to the throne room. Upon entering, he saw that there were many more people in the room than usual. In addition to his wardens, it seemed most of the nobles in the immediate area, the off duty soldiers, and servants had assembled to witness the event. Morrigan, however, was nowhere to be found, though the link between their rings told him she was sleeping in their room; apparently, the spells had taken more out of her than she had let on.

Deciding that complaining about the, at least to him, unnecessary injury, Matthew took his place in front of the throne, Varel and Geravel standing at either side of him.

"Alright, let's begin," Matthew said to Varel, who immediately told the crowd to be seated.

"The Warden-Commander will now hear the matter of The Crown against the sheepherder Alec," Varel intoned. At his words, a downright miserable looking man wearing dirty, commoner clothing stepped forward until he was only five feet away from the trio.

"On behalf of the Crown," Captain Garevel said, "I submit that Alec stole two bushels of grain bound for the garrison at Amaranthine. When confronted by guards, he confessed. The punishment for theft from the Crown is death by hanging."

"What say you, Alec," Seneschal Varel asked the shepherd.

"My sheep were slaughtered by darkspawn," Alec explained, his voice pleading. "My family was starving. I ask for mercy, commander."

"Poor bugger," Varel whispered into Matthew's ear. "If he had stolen from anyone but the crown, he'd have escaped with only a flogging."

Matthew was momentarily at a loss at what to do. He knew that the law needed to be upheld, lest the entire Arling fall into chaos, but executing a man for simply doing what was needed to save his family did not sit well with him at all. After a few minutes consideration, a new solution presented itself to him, one that would satisfy both his desire to give Alec a second chance, and the law's requirement that he face punishment.

"Alec," he finally said. "What you have done is not in question. You yourself have confessed to your crime, so your life is forfeit. However, I have no intentions of wasting anything in our present situation. And that is exactly what executing you would be; a waste. I am willing to overlook this crime, on a single condition; that you join the forces of Amaranthine, and fight against the darkspawn, and any other threat to the Arling."

Matthew had never seen a happier man than he did right now; Alec looked so joyful with the news the Warden-Commander was convinced the man would explode. Then, consternation clouded his features. "What of my family," the man asked.

"You may bring them here. No one here who works for the betterment of the Arling will starve at Vigil's Keep."

"Then I will bring them," Alec declared, beaming with joy. "Thank you, Commander." And with that he took his place back in the crowd; it was common curtsey to wait until the event was finished before you left.

The next case was bit darker and more difficult for Matthew to reach a satisfactory compromise. The defendant, a woman named Danella, was a soldier stationed at Vigil's Keep, who had been caught deserting her post. When questioned, the soldier declared that she had only left to retrieve her family. Matthew had thought long and hard about what to do with her; while he had sympathy for the women's plight, she had broken her oath of service to him, and could not be let off for it. In the end, however, he declared that Danella would be acquitted of her crime, as he felt that he had not taken the appropriate precautions to allow soldiers to bring their families' to safety, and resolved to change that.

"Mercy is all well and good, Commander Cousland," Captain Garevel whispered harshly in his ear, "But armies run on discipline. What are we to do when soldiers start shedding their uniforms left and right?"

"You hang them," Matthew said simply. "Once we can get a system set up so that soldiers can retrieve their loved ones in a manner so that Vigil's Keep is not threatened, the men have no true reason to desert aside from cowardice. As for our present situation, Danella will save her family, the other soldiers will not have to make a similar decision, and the Keep will not be threatened. Everyone is happy."

"Except Justice," the Captain declared.

"Justice is not a person, Garevel. It doesn't need to be happy."

Clearly not happy with his Commander, but no longer willing to continue the debate, Garevel stayed silent.

The last case had easily biggest impact; Ser Tamra, the noblewoman who had first warned him of the conspiracy, had been found murdered, and the defendant, Ser Temmerly, had been found a short distance away, covered in blood. Everyone believed he was guilty, something that was greatly reinforced by the man's abrasively superior attitude and the fact that he did not even claim innocence, only proclaiming that his noble lineage made him immune to the laws of man. However, the guards found no real evidence against him."

_But I have,_ Matthew thought as Tammerly sneered his obviously fabricated alibi at him.

"Hang him," Matthew proclaimed as soon as the murderer was finished.

"But… you can't," Tammerly exclaimed. "You have no proof!"

"Oh, but I do," the Commander declared, and he then explained to everyone the conspiracy against his life, the coded letter he had found which held Ser Temmerly's seal, and how the letter described, in great detail, how he intended to murder Ser Tamra as part of this conspiracy. He then stripped Temmerly of all his titles and lands, and ordered the guards to imprison him in the Keep's dungeon, and to ensure he had no opportunity to kill himself before facing the noose.

"You have no right to do this!" Temmerly screamed as the soldiers dragged him away. "Rendon Howe would never allow a noble to be executed like some _commoner!" _

Everyone in the room held their breath and looked at the Commander with absolute terror; clearly, they were all concerned that Cousland would go into a rage at the mere mention of his family's killer.

Matthew, however, merely replied, "Rendon Howe is dead, Temmerly; how he ran this Arling is of no consequence any longer. You and your cohorts ignored that fact, and now you will pay the price. Goodbye."

And with that, he turned and left the throne room, hearing Seneschal Veral declare the meeting adjourned. After waiting a few moments, Varel and Garevel followed him into the otherwise empty hallway.

"Who is Temmerly's heir," Matthew asked immediately.

"He does not have one, Commander," Varel replied. "He was currently negotiating an arranged married with another noble's daughter, but the engagement was never finalized."

"Seize all his assets, and turn them over to the Crown," Matthew said. He was tempted to take Temmerly's fortunes for himself and use them against the darkspawn, but decided against that as it could be sited as evidence that he had framed the man in order to do exactly that. Turning to Garelvel, he ordered the captain to begin making arrangements for soldiers to leave the Keep to retrieve their families. Once the two had left, he immediately headed to his and Morrigan's room; between fighting nobles and Antivan Crows, the walk to and from Stark's Farm, and the court hearing, he was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

Upon entering the first chamber, he hung up his crossbow, the Summer Sword, and his armor. Walking into their bedroom, he saw Morrigan laying on her said, breathing quietly. Sliding into the bed next to her, he wrapped his arms around her swollen belly, kissed her on the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

Unknown to him, his wife smilled even as she slept.

**A.N. **

**Yes, I realize the irony of saying that Justice is not a person. I put that in intentionally. **


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Matthew, Nathaniel, and Velanna stood waiting near the entrance to the basement of Vigil's Keep, waiting for the other two members of their group, Oghren and Anders, to be properly readied; Oghren, it seemed, had finally ingested something that could bring him to his knees. Specifically, a bottle of Aqua Magus. Apparently, he had failed to properly head the warning against drinking the substance in quantity. So, Anders was doing his best to ensure that the dwarven berserker did not keel over from the poisonous liquor.

While he and the others were waiting, Matthew mentally reviewed the weeks since the trial. The excavators had finally managed to remove the wall of debris that blocked the connection between the Keep's basement and the dwarven Deep Roads. Matthew had led Oghren, Velanna, and Anders down into the ancient tunnels. There, they had whipped out numerous darkspawn, unearthed an ancient demon (which had later been destroyed on their return to the surface) and had found an old dwarven barrier door which they closed off, preventing the darkspawn from invading the Keep from below again. After they had closed off the gate, he, his Wardens, and the Keep's soldiers had scoured every nook and cranny of the basement levels, finishing off the last of the darkspawn. Only once he was absolutely sure that none of the beasts remained did he send the soldiers on that job to positions on the surface.

Also in that time, the reconstruction of the Vigil's Walls had finally been complete. Two walls of granite eight feet thick now circled the Keep, with at least a dozen towers with catapults atop them on each wall. The ramparts on the battlements had been augmented with wooden hoardings, which had been soaked in warmth balm fluid in order to increase its resistance to fire and covered in slaps of slate for added strength and fire-proofing. Combined with the soldiers of the Keep, now veterans against the darkspawn and armed and armored with a metal second only to dragonbone, Matthew had absolute confidence that Vigil's Keep could withstand almost anything the world could throw at it.

Sadly, the clean up and repair had taken far less time than he had anticipated; he had been hoping that these tasks would take a few weeks longer so that he could have an excuse to stay at the Keep until Morrigan came due, in order to help her along as much as he could; at eight and a half months, she was very large, very uncomfortable, and very, _very_ cranky. Even by Morrigan standards.

Unfortunately, he had run out of excuses, and had gathered his wardens in order to go and investigate the chasm the hunters in Amaranthine had told him about. That is, he would, if Oghren hadn't just drank an entire liter of alcohol laced with high-grade lyrium and brought the entire operation to halt right from the beginning.

"I should hate her, but I don't."

Drawn out of his reminiscing by Velanna's statement, Matthew turned to the armored elven mage, and said, "Pardon, Velanna?"

"I'm talking about the Shemlen prophet, Andraste. I can respect a woman who fights for freedom and justice."

An ironic grin appeared on the Warden-Commander's face. "I'm surprised to hear such high praise for a human from you."

The blonde woman's head snapped in his direction, giving him a scowl even his wife could be proud of. "I can look past petty hatred when I have reason to. And besides, she and her army freed my people from Tevinter slavery. Andraste is the reason why the elves ever had any nation at all." Turning back to the stone effigy, she snorted in amusement. "It's funny; Andraste fought a tyrannical empire, only for her followers to become one themselves."

Matthew barked a laugh. "I couldn't have said it better myself. I'll have to try that on Revered Mother Morag the next time we go to Amaranthine!"

"Please don't," he heard Nathaniel groan.

"People with power NEVER fail to abuse it," Velanna declared. "Even those with good intentions."

Cocking an eyebrow, Matthew turned his head to the elf, and replied, "Oh, really? And how would things be different if the Dalish had power?"

Judging by her shocked expression, Velanna had been too arrogant to even consider the possibility that her statement applied to her own people as well. "What!? No! The Dalish only wish to restore our culture, and to help and protect our own people."

"That is exactly what the Chantry started off saying," Matthew countered. "And only a little less than three centuries later, they were marching their armies against the Dales, reducing your people to wandering tribes and those crammed into our cities." Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "What if the Dalish did have power now? How long would it be before you decided that Fereldan needed to be wiped out of existence?"

Velanna merely stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes wide with shock, until she finally stammered, "I..I do not wish to continue this discussion."

"As you wish."

After that the group fell silent, apart from Oghren; the dwarf had finally ceased regurgitating all over the ground, and was now kneeling with his back to the wall, moaning softly as Anders began mixing a potion to settle the warrior's stomach. The normally care-free Spirit Healer was in an uncharacteristically foul mood; he was wearing a scowl that rivaled Morrigan and Velanna , though it was understandable, given that he was splattered with vomit.

Suddenly, Matthew felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see his very pregnant wife holding a large, obviously full pack. "Here," she snapped, shoving the leather bag into his arms.

Looking down at the pack, then back at Morrigan, and decided to risk asking, "And what is it you are giving me, exactly?"

"Supplies," Morrigan said, her voice filled with acid. "Poultices, lyrium potions, balms, grenades. I thought you might need them, seeing as I am no longer permitted to weave spells."

"Morrigan," he groaned.

"Well, how did you expect me to react," she spat. "I have told you dozens of times before; I. Am. Not. Helpless. And I don't need you watching out for me at all hours."

"I KNOW, Morrigan," Matthew nearly shouted with exasperation. "I KNOW you can take care of yourself, and I KNOW that you don't need my protection. But our child," he continued, placing a finger on her bulging stomach, "can't take care of his or herself. Our child DOES need someone watching out for him or her. And as parents, it is our duty to do these things, even if it means doing things that we find distasteful. Understand?"

Morrigan eyes narrowed as she glared at her husband, apparently trying to counter his argument, before groaning, and rubbed her eyes with her hands. "Fine, Matthew. I suppose you are correct. But after I give birth, I will NOT be left on the sidelines anymore; I will not allow anyone to dictate what I think and do."

Taking a glance behind Morrigan, he felt himself tighten slightly. "I think that someone might disagree with you, dear."

Confusion clouded his wife's features, only to be replaced with a look of absolute exasperation. "Oh, for goodness sake," Morrigan hissed. "Will that woman not give me even a moment's peace?"

The woman they were talking about, and who was currently storming toward the pair as they spoke, was a grizzled, old midwife named Matilda. She was the most experienced midwife Matthew could find, which was why he had hired her. What he hadn't realized until it was too late was that she was an absolute control freak; she expected every expectant mother to obey every order she gave exactly when she gave it, and to continue to obey them until she said otherwise. And, as Morrigan obeyed absolutely no one, sparks had been flying between the two immediately.

Matthew had heard of love at first sight, but never hate at first sight.

"What are you doing outside of your quarters, woman," the ancient woman hissed. Matthew took a step back; he did not want to be caught in the cross-fire.

"I came to give my husband some supplies for his mission," Morrigan replied haughtily. "I doubt that walking down a few flights of stairs and out into the courtyard will do any harm to my unborn child."

Matilda stomped as close to Morrigan as she could without touching her stomach, which still left her a good distance away, and replied scathingly, "That is entirely beside the point, woman! The point is that are two weeks away from giving birth, and you need to do exactly what I say if you want to get through this!"

"I will listen to you when it is imperative that I do so," the irate mage countered. "I do not require to have someone else run errands for me simply because the only thing you want me to do is sit in my room and sew."

With that, Matilda finally lost whatever shred of patience she still had, and threw her arms into the air. "I cannot believe this! You are, without any doubt in my mind, the most difficult person I have ever met in my entire career!" Turning to Matthew, she asked, "Warden Commander, do you maintain any control over this woman at all?!"

"No," Matthew said immediately. "I do not. And I am not foolhardy enough to try."

The wrinkled old had glared at him, then finally turned and stormed back to the Keep. Anyone who was in her path immediately turned aside once they saw her coming.

Meanwhile, Anders and Oghren both walked up to the group, both covered in sweat and vomit. "Grey Wardens, reporting for duty, ser," Anders recited, his voice missing his usual charm. Nodding, Matthew slung the pack over his shoulder, and turned to order his group to move out. Before he could, however, he felt Morrigan's hand grip his arm. Turning, he saw a sly smile adorning his wife's face. Placing a hand on the side of his head, she pulled him close, and whispered in his ear, "Be safe out there, love; you may get a pleasant surprise when you return."

Grinning wickedly, Matthew whispered back, "And what would that be?"

"Come back unharmed, and find out," Morrigan murmured, and then planted a kiss on lips. Returning the sign of affection, the couple remained where they stood for several moments. Finally, with a final pat on his wife's bulging stomach, Matthew ordered his group to move out, and the five Grey Warden's of Fereldan marched out of the Gates of Vigil's Keep.

oo-00-oo

The group had felt the area where the hunter's had found the chasm long before they actually arrived; the area was thick with darkspawn taint. The area around the gaping hole in the ground was mixture of yellows, browns, and grays as the poison of the blighted horde killed the plant life that had once thrived here. They even encountered a bereskarn, a bear that had been corrupted by the darkspawn taint and driven mad with pain. They had dispatched the animal as much for pity as self-defense.

As they began to cross the bridge that spanned the gap, Matthew immediately saw something the hunters had evidently missed; the hole did not lead to a natural hole in the ground. The land had collapsed into an abandoned section of the Dwarven Deep Roads. Anders groaned when he found out that piece of information; the healer hated going underground.

Descending back into the bowels of the earth, the five were ambushed by a group of deep stalkers, which they defeated without any injuries whatsoever; the creatures were about the size of house cats, so their teeth and claws were no match for the Warden's armor and weapons. Stopping only to grab a few trinkets they found in the animal's stomachs, including a deer foot on a small chain, the group continued farther down into the Roads. Hearing a scuffle nearby, the group immediate pressed themselves along the wall to their right. Matthew peaked around the corner.

A group of five darkspawn, consisting of a genlock emissary, two hurlocks, and two lesser genlocks were marching toward a small stairway leading deeper into the ancient dwarven tunnels, and the hurlocks were dragging a live dwarven woman by her legs behind them. The dwarf, whose armor identified her as belonging to Orzammar's Legion of the Dead, was still struggling to try to get away. Not long after Matthew spotted her, she managed to free her left leg, and kick the Hurlock holding her right in the back of the knee, sending it sprawling. Finally loose, the minute fighter scrambled back up the hall, and grabbed a discarded ax that the Wardens had failed to notice.

Turning his attention back to the darkspawn, Matthew saw the emissary preparing a spell to incapacitate the dwarf. Immediately stepping around the corner, he unleashed a Holy Smite on the emissary. The two lesser genlocks were tossed aside by the force of the attack, while the mage dropped to its knees, screaming in agony as the anti-magic attack consumed its mana and burned it from the inside out. Nathaniel immediately stepped out next to him, and shot the incapacitated emissary in the eye. Valanna shot a bolt of lightning at one of the genlocks, leaving a sizzling hole in its chest, and Anders hit the second in the head with an Arcane Bolt. Oghren, with all the finesse of a battering ram, charged one of the hurlocks, bellowing all the way, slashed off its lower legs with his battle ax, and finally cut the beast in two with an overhead blow.

Matthew's attention, however, was now of the dwarf they had just rescued, who was now fighting the final hurlock with her ax and a long dagger she had acquired while he wasn't looking. Watching her fight was fascinating; while she was armored in heavy mail and plate like a warrior, her fighting style was that of a rogue. Twisting to the side to avoid an underhand blow, the darkspawn's sword caught her helmet on one of the decorative horns, knocking it off. In response, the dwarf stabbed the Hurlock in both its thighs. Unable to bear its own weight, the monster fell to its knees, before finally being killed as the rogue split its head in two with her ax.

"Well," the dwarven fighter breathed, turning to the group. "That was….close. For a moment there, I thought I was about to REALLY join the Legion of the Dead."

Matthew was taken aback by the dwarf's strangely perky attitude, especially given her appearance; her face was covered in tattoos so as to resemble a skull. Usually, such people did not make light-hearted conversation. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I may have broken a rib," the rogue explained. "But it's hard to be sure; everything hurts."

"Anders," Matthew ordered immediately. The former Circle Mage immediately stepped forward, and began inspecting the dwarf's body for injuries.

"May have broken A rib?" Anders repeated sarcastically. "Try half of them." His quip finished, he cast a powerful, complicated healing spell on the woman, reforming her broken bones and closing any internal injuries she had suffered.

"Thanks," she said as she bent down to retrieve her helmet. "But I can't stay and chat. I should head back-foolish as that sounds… see if there's anything I can do."

"Go back where," Matthew questioned. The Legion of the Dead was a group of dwarven warriors that gave up their past lives in order to devote their entire being to fighting the darkspawn. Anything that was of interest to the Legion was of interest to Grey Wardens as well.

"There is something going on in Kal'Hirol," the dwarf explained. "We think that the darkspawn are breeding an army. The Legion sent my unit to investigate, but Kal'Hirol was too much for us. It was a massacre. Now I….I'm the only one left."

Matthew knew what the dwarf was feeling only too well; he would never forget the feeling of despair he had felt when he had awoken after the Battle of Ostagar to find that he and Alistair were the only remaining Grey Wardens in the entire country.

"The darkspawn have changed," the dwarf woman continued before Matthew could say anything. "They're smart now. They destroyed the entire part of the Legion that was sent to the old fortress." Shame and horror filled her eyes, and she averted her gaze. "I saw them taking some of the women, and I wasn't going to stick around for that."

"Good decision," Matthew responded immediately.

"There are many things worse than death," the rogue said, her voice a whisper. "And birthing darkspawn day and night is probably the worst." Looking back at him, the woman squared her shoulders, and declared, "But if the darkspawn are really breeding an army, I can't stay here; I have to do _something." _

"Well, my companions and I are Grey Wardens," Matthew explained, seeing as, come the void or high water, this dwarf was going back to Kal'Hirol. "We could come with you."

The woman looked surprised, then delighted. "Huh. That's convenient. The ancestors must have had a hand in this. Alright, I'll show you where Kal'Hirol is. Safety in numbers, yes?"

"True enough," Matthew agreed. " I am Warden-Commander Matthew Cousland; this is Velanna, Oghren, Nathaniel, and Anders."

"Sigrun," the dwarven rogue introduced herself. Grinning from ear to ear, she continued with, "Well, let's go. This task is no longer impossible. Merely…improbable!"

Chuckling at the woman's enthusiasm, Matthew followed her deeper into the artificial caverns, his Wardens following close behind.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Trekking even deeper into the earth, the group continued their search and destroy mission, their new dwarven companion leading the way. Apart from a few darkspawn, they had encountered no further obstacles. That is, if one ignored Oghren's constant, sickening flirting with the Legionnaire. Eventually, it got so bad that Matthew had been forced to halt the group, pull the dwarven berserker aside, and threaten him with finding his wife, Felsi, and bringing her to the Keep. The moment he said that, Oghren had turned sheet white, and had been unusually silent for the rest of the walk through the Roads.

At last, the group had reached the exit of the artificial cavern, and beheld a massive underground cavern, which contained a stone fortress with several small buildings before it, most of which were covered with darkspawn ichor. Turning to Sigrun, Matthew asked, "Kal'Hirol, I presume?"

The Legionnaire nodded, and replied, "This is it. Kal'Hirol used to be a major center of learning for the Smith Caste. When the darkspawn overran it, the smiths were forced to leave most of their accumulated knowledge behind." Looking at the architecture wistfully, she whispered, "They've never built anything quite like Kal'Hirol since."

After a moment of looking over the sight, Sigrun turned and led them down the ramp that to the ancient fortress. As they reached the first abandoned building, however, Matthew spotted the body of a dwarven soldier nearby. After a moment, the body shifted, catching him off guard; the soldier was still alive.

"Jukka!" Sigrun shouted, immediately sprinting toward the prone figure. Matthew tensed, worried that the scout's unsubtle approach would alert the nearby darkspawn, sheathed the Summer Sword, and pulled out his crossbow, scanning the area while making a few quick hand motions to the others. Behind him, he heard Nathaniel knock an arrow, while Velanna and Anders readied their staves. After a few moments, Matthew felt no darkspawn approaching them, so he motioned his Wardens forward, albeit cautiously.

"Sigrun," the wounded dwarven warrior whispered, clearly in unbearable pain.

"Hold on, Jukka," Sigrun said urgently. "There are Grey Wardens with me; they can help you."

"No" Jukka replied immediately, this time with much more energy. "I feel my death upon me, and it is a sweet release." He coughed up a mixture of saliva and blood, and then spoke to the entire group. "You must listen; the broodmothers, they're…they're breeding an army. You…you must…stop them. But…but beware the Children. They are abominations…even among darkspawn."

"Children," Sigrun asked, confused by her comrade's warning. "Whose Children? Jukka, what are you talking about?"

Jukka tried to explain, but his breath grew ragged, and he breathed his last before he could tell them what the Children were. Bowing her head, she closed her comrade's eyes, whispering, "Ancestors watch over you, brother." Matthew gave her a moment to grieve for her brother in arms, and once she stood, they continued toward the old dwarven fortress. They were all more apprehensive than before, though; just what were these Children?

As it turned out, they did not need to wait long to find out; a short way down the path, they came under attack by hulocks, genlocks, shrieks, and what appeared to be giant grubs with heads like a deformed toddlers and pincer-like jaws. Fortunately, their tiny legs meant that they were slow and ungainly, making them easy prey. Matthew tossed a fire grenade at one group of the oversized larva and burned them to cinders, before decapitating two genlocks with a single sweeping blow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Velanna, holding her ground, using her keeper magic to impale and entangle the darkspawn that approached her and slicing the ones that made it to her open with her sword. Arrows from Nathaniel's bow sailed over their heads and picked off the darkspawn archers one by one. Sigrun and Oghren were busy smashing and squashing the Children that tried to sneak in and attack the groups' ankles while they weren't looking, and all the while, Anders kept up a steady stream of healing and rejuvenation spells.

The battle group pressed the attack on the darkspawn held fortress, encountering several more groups of darkspawn. Along the way, they found several pieces of armor and weapons, all of which appeared to be of fine make, but were all damaged in some manner as to be unusable. Matthew had his wardens carry them with them anyway, however, in case it was possible to repair and use them.

Fighting their way through a large squad of darkspawn that had come from within the fortress to try and stop them, the Wardens passed through the first wall of the ancient fortress. Sigrun help up a hand to stop them as they entered the courtyard between defenses, though. "What's wrong," Matthew demanded.

"The Legion got this far with no trouble," Sigrun explained. "We got complacent and charged right into the second gate." The dwarf bowed and shook her head. "It was a massacre; the darkspawn had turned the thiag's old defenses against us; tripwires, pressure plates, they had even taken control of the abandoned golems."

"Alright," the Warden-Commander thought aloud. "Storming the front entrance is probably not the right way to proceed. Anyone have any ideas?"

Surprisingly, Oghren was the one who answered. "You could check for switches that lead to secondary doors or passageways; they'll be hidden, but between our new friend and Rendon's little blighter, you should be able to find it no problem."

Nathaniel winced at the berserker's nickname for him, and left to help Sigrun search for any alternative means of entry. Matthew, while they left, marched up to the dwarf, and snarled, "Stop calling Nathaniel that, Oghren."

"What," the indignant dwarf replied, pulling his usual flask out of his pack. "I don't mean anything by it; I like the guy."

"That may be true," Matthew hissed, "but Nathaniel is still coming to terms with what his father has done, and this is not helping him."

"Why, are you going to threaten to bring Felsi here? Again? You can only threaten me with that so many times before I build a resistance, Commander."

"No," the red-headed human snarled. "I will only threaten you with it so many times before I actually _do_ it."

Before the discussion could continue, however, a shout of success was heard nearby; Sigrun had found the hidden switch. As soon as the group had gathered around her, she reached into the mouth of a carving of a face, and pushed down on the stone tongue. The stone appendage shifted down, and an entire section of the wall sank into the ground. The wardens and their companion rushed through the gap, which closed behind them, plunging them into complete darkness. Fortunately, Anders and Velanna pulled out their staves and lit the ends with glowing balls of light, allowing them to look around. Spotting an old ladder leading to a small doorway, they climbed up and began slowly moving through the narrow passageway; as it had been designed with dwarves in mind, only Oghren and Sigrun were able to pass through it without hunching over.

It eventually deposited them on at the top of a stairway just past the main entrance hall. The Genlocks, Hurlocks, and Children, having heard their approach, had taken up positions facing the entrance in preparation for their attack. However, the monsters were apparently unaware of the secrete entrance, and the only immediate opposition they faced was a Genlock emissary who had its back turned to them. It is hand was thick metal rod that the Commander immediately recognized as a golem control rod.

Pulling out his crossbow, Matthew slathered a small amount of concentrated magebane poison on the bolt's tip. Anders took an involuntary step back at the sight of the liquid, and the Commander gave an apologetic glance to the spirit healer. Magebane, especially in the concentrated form that he was using, would suck the mana out of mage like water from a breached dam. He didn't like the substance at all, and if he was facing a mage would usually try to force surrender before he would use it.

He had no compunctions against using it on darkspawn, though.

Replacing the cork on the vial and handing the glass of venom to Nathaniel, Matthew brought up the crossbow, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger mechanism. The bolt flew like an angry hornet, and buried itself up to the feathers into the Genlock's skull. Translucent blue flames writhed across the beast's body as the poison burned away its mana. Motioning over his shoulder, the Commander sent Nathaniel out toward the darkspawn's corpse. Stepping carefully, the rogue reached the body, picked up the control rod, and began directing the four stone monoliths below.

The affect was immediate and gruesome. The darkspawn, caught off guard by their new toys' betrayal, were, quite literally smashed to pieces. Nathaniel had the golems target the enemies with maces and war hammers first, as those weapons were the most likely to harm the living stone soldiers. The survivors attacked the golems with swords and daggers, but the brittle, poorly forged metal of the weapons simply shattered against the solid granite of the golems. Left defenseless, they were easy prey for the stone soldiers. Once they were all dead, Nathaniel gestured the rod over his shoulder, and the golems marched on ahead of them, the Wardens following close behind. With their golems doing most of the heavy lifting, Matthew and his companions had little to do other than watch the carnage and shoot the occasional darkspawn that slipped past their new servants. Matthew's mind was already spinning with ideas of what he could do with these golems. Keeping them at the Vigil would be a great asset against the darkspawn. However, trading the golems back to the dwarves of Orzammar would likely increase Fereldan's standing with the race; seeing as he had destroyed the Anvil of the Void, the only way to create the automatons, the remaining golems were rare and horded by the dwarves.

Unfortunately, he would get to do neither of these things; the darkspawn eventually started picking the golems off one by one, until there were none left, and Matthew and his companions were back on the front lines again. It wasn't all bad, though; they found numerous weapons and armor in the abandoned thaig, including a mage's staff so powerful that Ander's very nearly wet himself when he received it from the Commander, an ancient message from Kal'Hirol's last commander during the initial darkspawn siege that credited the resident casteless dwarves as the reason that fortress had held so long that Matthew was sure to retrieve to send to King Bhelen, a block of lyrium suspended in the air that was large enough to destroy an army, and an ancient golem blacksmith that repaired all of the broken equipment they had found.

Something of far greater interest to him was the fact that there seemed to be a civil war occurring among the darkspawn; two different factions, one lead by another talking darkspawn, were hacking away at each other deeper into the old city. Matthew had held his followers back, letting the monsters whittle each other down. Once one side emerged victorious, the six would come down on them like a tidal wave and wipe the last of them out.

Unfortunately, they later encountered a surprise that was FAR less welcome. The Children, as it turned out, were not as helpless as Matthew had originally thought. At one point in their adventure into the depths, they walked into a room just in time to see one of the oversized grubs leap at a Hurlock, knock it to the ground, and began ripping its abdomen open with its pincer jaws. Almost as soon as the Hurlock stopped moving, the Child began twitching, and suddenly sprouted four spindly limbs, two used as legs and two covered in sharp barbs that it used to brain a nearby Genlock. It never had the chance to assault the Wardens, though; Nathaniel saw to that with a well placed arrow.

After fighting through a collapsed section of the fortress, which had been transformed into a Children Hatchery, the group finally reached the deepest reaches of the fortress, what appeared to be the sewers and water drainage. Traveling along the stone pathway in the center of the hall, they eventually came to a large circular chamber, where they saw two talking darkspawn, one of which was being held by an enormous, flaming golem.

"The Architect sends many, but does not come himself," the victorious emissary gloated. "He is a coward! I will kill you, and he will know that he has failed to destroy The Lost! He will know that the Mother will tear him apart!" Without another word, the flaming golem grabbed the defeated darkspawn with both hands, twisted, and ripped the monster in half.

Suddenly, The Lost turned its head to the new arrivals, and snarled. "Who comes now? I can feel the Taint in you, but you are no darkspawn! What trickery is he planning?"

Matthew was about to demand what the lisping beast was talking about, but The Lost cut him off. "You will die, as all who serve the Architect will die! The Mother demands-"

Not interested in hearing any more darkspawn monologues, Matthew had hit the beast with a Holy Smite. Joining with a benevolent Fade spirit, he than charged the flaming golem. He had further augmented his spirit warrior abilities still further in his time back at the Keep; he could now extend the fade energy to his weapon and have it phase through his opponents' armor and strike their flesh directly, and could unleash a wave of Fade energy in all directions, tearing away at flesh of his foes.

Dodging the golem's fist, he slashed out at its leg, the blade of the Summer Sword passing through the armor plating, and cutting through the slightly softer metal and stone beneath it. Unable to support the massive construct's weight, the leg snapped off, and the golem collapsed to the ground. It tried to drag itself back up, but Anders seized the initiative and cast a blizzard spell on top of the golem's collapsed form. The tsunami of freezing wind and ice cooled and extinguished the flames, and froze the construct to the ground, allowing Velanna, Oghren, and Sigrun to rush it and smash its head into rubble and metal shards, finally killing it.

Meanwhile, Matthew had turned his attention to The Lost, who had regained his footing. The emissary lifted his staff into the air, and cast a Mind Blast spell, trying to stun him. Halting and bracing himself, he shrugged off the spell. The Lost then began building up a far larger spell, and Matthew decided that now was the time to test out a new Templar talent he had uncovered. He brought the Summer Sword up to his face, pressed his nose against the hilt, and pointed the tip directly at The Lost. Immediately, a greenish-grey aura sprang up around The Lost, and the darkspawn shrieked in horror.

The Commander grinned mercilessly; this new talent was known as The Silence. It temporarily cut a mage's connection to the Fade completely; not even blood magic could be used by a mage under its influence. Regaining his momentum, Matthew charged The Lost, swinging the Summer Sword at the emissary's side, who blocked the blow with his staff. After exchanging several blows, Matthew trapped the two weapons between their bodies, and the two began snarling in each other's faces, trying to shove each other to the ground.

Suddenly, The Lost shrieked in pain; while Matthew had kept his attention, Nathaniel had snuck around and shot an arrow into its back. Leaning back, the Commander head butted the darkspawn to disorient the monster, shoved it back, and stabbed the Summer Sword under its chin and into its skull. The Lost's body went limp, and it collapsed to the ground as Matthew withdrew the blade, which was already coated with its black, poisonous blood. Sheathing the sword, Matthew reached down, picked up the discarded staff, and walked over to Velanna, who was cleaning her blade.

Looking up at him, the blonde elf preempted him by saying, "I am beginning to question my ancestors' use of this magic, Commander. I didn't have to worry about sharpening a weapon or oiling armor before now. It is becoming rather irritating."

Smirking, Matthew replied, "When we find the truth of the past, it isn't always what we expect or want it to be, Velanna; you would do well to remember that. However, if using a blade is truly so inconvenient for you, I might suggest using this." And with that, he held the strangely uncorrupted staff to the elven mage.

Her perpetual scowl lightening somewhat, Velanna placed her shield on her back, sheathed her sword, and took the staff. As soon as her hand touched the golden metal, her face was overcome with awe and shock. "Creators…" she breathed.

Matthew cocked an eyebrow. "The staff is powerful?" he asked.

Looking at him incredulously, but without her usual distain, Velanna explained, "This is the most powerfully enchanted staff I've ever encountered, Commander; it puts every staff that my clan has made to shame, and we have crafted very powerful staves." Looking down on the staff in her hands, she murmured, "this could more than double the potency of my spells…"

Smiling, Matthew replied, "Well, let's test that out, shall we?" After seeing the Velanna crack a rare grin, he turned and motioned for the group to continue on their way. The Warden's and their Legionnaire companion continued deeper into the sewers, now entering an area that was covered in darkspawn biomass. Trying to ignore the disgusting squishing sounds coming from beneath his boots, Matthew pressed on.

Suddenly, tentacles sprang from the biomass, and began grappling with the group, trying to strangle them or rip their arms and legs off. Trying to cut the apparently rotting tendrils of flesh proved difficult; they constantly retreated into the biomass and could move at whiplash speed. Suddenly, thick vines and roots broke through the ceiling and floor of the tunnel, tangling and pinning the tentacles into immobility. Turning, everyone saw Velanna guiding her magic through the Lost's staff, magnifying her already considerable Keeper magic abilities. Focusing, the blonde mage began crushing the tentacles with her vines, splitting them into pieces.

Conjuring up still more magic, Velanna brought forward a sea of plant tendrils, and began moving forward, the roots and vines pushing her forward. Every time another group of rotting tentacles appeared, they were overwhelmed and crushed by elf's plant allies. Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel, and with the tentacle attacks ceasing, Velanna finally ended her spell, sending the roots back into the earth. Suddenly, the mage began to sway on her feet, and collapsed. She would have slammed into the ground if Nathaniel had not immediately leapt forward and caught her at the last moment. Gathering her up in his arms bridal style, he walked her over to the nearby wall, and set her down against it. Without any pause, he reached into his pack, and pulled out a strong lyrium potion. Pulling out the cork, he brought the flask to her lips, and slowly poured the contents into her mouth, pausing occasionally to ensure the half-conscious elf did not choke.

After the flask had been drained, Velanna's head slumped down, before she groggily lifted her head up to look at Nathaniel. Blinking her eyes in confusion, she whispered, "You…you helped me?"

"Of course," Nathaniel whispered back. The couple sat there for several moments, just looking in each other's eyes, both sets filled with confusion and newfound trust. It was an altogether beautiful and touching scene.

So, of course, Matthew immediately gave in to the irresistible urge to ruin it.

"Excuse me, love birds," he catcalled, drawing the rogue and mage's attention. "Are you two done, or do we need to leave the room."

Nathaniel immediately turned bright red, and shot his commander a death glare, but Velanna only appeared confused by his comment. "What is that supposed to mean," she asked Nathaniel; due to her disdain for anything even remotely related to humans, she was clearly unaware of shem idioms.

"I'll explain later," Nathaniel muttered, though by the look on his face, he would never bring this situation up again.

Once the two had regained their footing and rejoined the group, they began weighing their options. Looking down through a hole in the center of the room, they could see the broodmothers below them. There were several dozen of the bloated, corrupted monstrosities in the cavern; most were former human and dwarvan women, along with a few elf and one kossith females. Matthew immediately ruled out a direct attack on the broodmothers; he saw no ladders or stairways leading down to the lower level, and he wasn't about to order his Wardens to jump through the hole and give them no option of retreat. Even if they could get down to the broodmothers, Matthew likely wouldn't have done it; the first time he encountered a broodmother, his entire group had nearly been wiped out, and that was just with one of the beasts.

Suddenly, he felt a tug on his arm. Looking down, he saw Sigrun smiling up at him, pointing at the ceiling over the hole in the floor. Looking up, Matthew laughed out loud at what Sigrun was indicating; the titanic lyrium block they had discovered earlier was hanging above them, perfectly positioned to land right in the center of broodmother nest. In addition, the four chains that kept the block from plummeting were spread out across the room. Shouting out orders, Matthew sent Anders and Oghren to one chain, while he and Velanna sprinted to another. They reached their target first, and Matthew had Velanna freeze a section of the chain to temperatures most winters couldn't match. Once the spell was finished, Matthew lashed out with the Summer Sword, shattering two links. Above him, he heard a groan as the other three supports stained under the added pressure.

Looking across the gap, he was just quick enough to see Anders finish freezing the second chain. The mage immediately stood aside, and Oghren cut the chain cleanly with his battle ax. The loss of this second support was too much for the remaining chains. With a massive snap, the cubical lyrium bomb sped downward, smashing into the cavern floor. The explosion was unlike anything Matthew had ever heard. He had used grenades in battle before, but the noise he was hearing now was unprecedented; he stopped trying to cover his eyes, and immediately jammed his fingers into his ears, howling; the explosion was so loud, it actually caused him physical pain.

Finally, quickly as it came, the blast ended, leaving everyone with ringing ears and sore heads. Looking to Velanna, who had gone down on her knees, he asked, "Are you alright?"

When he didn't get an answer, he kneeled down to see what was wrong, and got his answer immediately; small trickles of blood were running out of her ears. Matthew remembered then that elves had far more sensitive hearing that humans did. Correspondingly, it must have meant making them more vulnerable to loud noises damaging the inner mechanisms that allowed them to hear.

Shouting to Anders to get over to his side of the room, he took a small bandage out of his pack and began sponging the blood from the elf. She flinched away at first, caught off guard by his actions, but stopped as soon as she saw that his actions were not hostile. Matthew took Velanna's allowance for his touching her with surprise; Velanna despised humans, a deep-rooted racism that could be found in most Dalish elves, due to the fact that humans had twice conquered their homeland. Hopefully, that would change soon, at least in relations between Fereldan and the Dalish; he had been hearing rumors that Alistair was going to grant a section of land to the Dalish, along with a representative in the Landsmeet, which the king had confirmed when Matthew had asked if they were true. The only reason that this plan had any shot was the Dalish Hunters' stellar performance during the Battle of Denerim, which had saved thousands of the city's citizens, and shattered the Chantry's carefully constructed façade of the elves being child-sacrificing savages. Matthew had particularly enjoyed watching the Grand Cleric swallow her pride, and thank Keeper Lanaya for her people's contribution to the fight.

Meanwhile, Anders had finally reached the pair, and began the process to heal Velanna's inner ears. Confident the situation was under control, Matthew stood and walked over to the hole in the floor to inspect the damage the lyrium bomb had caused.

The answer was absolute. Every broodmother in the pit had been killed. Those closest to the center had been reduced to pulp, while those farther away from the epicenter had experienced progressively less damage, until the ones at the very end had perished from simple lyrium poisoning. Matthew nodded in satisfaction; killing so many broodmothers at once would cut the flow of darkspawn births in the area, leaving them unable to maintain their forces in the area.

"We…we did it." Matthew turned to see that it was Sigrun that was speaking. "If the rest of the Legion were alive," she continued, "I know they would honor you in some way."

"Thank you," the Commander replied. "I'm sorry so many had to die."

Sigrun's usually chipper face sobered. "Earlier, I used to wish that I could get away from the others. Now that they're gone, I just want them back. Silly, isn't it?" Refocusing, the dwarf returned to more immediate matters. "What's curious is that we seem to now be facing two different factions of darkspawn."

Raising an eyebrow, Matthew asked, "Has this never happened before?"

The dwarf shook her head. "The darkspawn are by nature vicious, and have always fought amongst themselves, but there have never been two organized factions before. This is… troubling."

"Why," Matthew asked, smirking. "This could be excellent news; let them chip away at each other, and when they're too weak to pose any real threat, we come in a eradicate them."

Sigrun laughed. "I like the way you think, Commander." Once she had regained her breath, she said, "Well, this was fun, and it was nice meeting you all, but I need to get going."

"Go," Nathaniel questioned, having recently joined to two. "Go where?"

"Oh, I'll probably disappear into the bowels of the Deep Roads, never to be seen again," she replied in a shockingly off-hand manner. "The one good thing about this place is that you never run out of darkspawn to kill."

Suddenly, Matthew was struck by inspiration, and immediately moved forward with his sudden plan. "Perhaps you would consider joining us?"

Sigrun appeared surprised by the Commander of the Grey's offer. "Join you?" she whispered, dazed by the opportunity that her new companion had given her. "But that would go against my vow to the Legion."

"I don't see how it would," he challenged. "As a Grey Warden, you still fight darkspawn, and die in battle against them."

"And I'd be more effective at killing the darkspawn, wouldn't I," Sigrun breathed, looking like a child on Satinalia. "Ha! How does one say 'no' to this?"

Sheathing her ax and dagger, she stood up straight, though it made little difference in her short height, and proclaimed, "Let's go; the darkspawn won't wait around forever!"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

By the time that Matthew and his companions had reached the surface, the sun had already sunk halfway below the horizon. Not willing to run the risk of being caught at night in an area so infested with darkspawn, the group had fallen back to the outer ruins of the dwarven fortress they had just cleared, and set up camp a medium sized room that had a minimum of tainted biomass covering it. The entrance was immediately barricaded and laced with traps and magical glyphs to ward off any attempt from their enemies to kill them in their sleep. Anders was given first watch, though he did so under protest.

Their makeshift camp may have been safe, but that was about all that could be said about it; everything else fell far below even the most basic campsite. At least out on the road, they didn't have to sleep on solid rock. Only Sigrun didn't have any complaints about the sleeping arrangements, as she had used little else throughout her life, whether in the Legion of the Dead or, as the brand on her cheek indicated, a casteless in Dust Town in Orzammar. Even Matthew himself was not comfortable, for while he had slept on the stone floors of the ancient dwarf tunnels before, in the last few months he had been spoiled by the soft beds of Denerim, Highever Castle, and Vigil's Keep.

As he set up his own bed roll, he saw Velanna walking up to Nathaniel out of the corner of his eye. She was fidgeting, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I…owe you an apology," she stuttered out to the archer.

"Just the one," Nathaniel replied, cocking an eyebrow.

Matthew fully expected the elven mage to punch the rogue in the jaw, but instead she merely averted her eyes, and muttered, "Sometimes I paint all humans with the same brush."

Smirking, the Howe replied, "So long as it's such a pretty brush, I don't care."

_Well done, Nathaniel,_ Matthew thought, rolling his eyes. _That was the epitome of subtlety. _

To his amazement, however, Velanna gave no other reaction than one of confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rolling his eyes, the rogue said, "It means that you're apology is accepted, my lady."

"Well, good." Velanna turned to walk back to her own bedroll, but stopped when she ran right into Anders, who was staring at her with a highly uncharacteristically livid expression.

"WHAT IN THE VOID DO YOU MEAN, YOU _SOMETIMES _PAINT ALL HUMANS WITH THE SAME BRUSH!" he roared indignantly.

Snickering, Matthew rolled over, and tried to fall asleep amid the Circle Mage's continuing tirade.

oo-00-oo

After a highly uncomfortable night on the storeroom floor, the group finally set out after a few hours of sleep. Killing the scant few darkspawn stragglers still in the ancient fortress, they finally exited out into the sunlight. Sigrun had to stop and lean against the side of the collapsed tunnel for a moment before continuing; while she had been in that same spot before, she had been fighting for her life, and hadn't had time to focus on the open sky above her. Now that she could, she was undergoing the same reaction that Oghren and many other dwarves had experienced when leaving the Deep Roads for the first time. Fortunately, as a Legionnaire of the Dead, she was increadibly quick to adjust, and within ten minutes, they were on the move again.

Apart from a scuffle with a pack of wolves, the day passed without incident. Once dusk fell, they made camp in a small clearing; it would take them at least another day to get back to Vigil's Keep. The only thing of any note was the fact that, for the first time, Velanna, actively sought out company amongst the group, namely Nathaniel. The two talked together for no less than an hour before they finally went to sleep. Matthew, who was on watch, smiled; not only was this a sign that the elven mage would better integrate herself into the Fereldan Grey Wardens, but may also enkindle some sort of relationship with Nathaniel.

_The world could always use a little more love in it, _he thought.

Back in Vigil's Keep, he "felt" Morrigan pretend to throw up.

oo-00-oo

After breakfast the next morning, they again set off; baring any further interruptions, they would be back in Vigil's Keep by mid-day.

Unfortunately, judging by the raised voices they heard just around the corner of the road that was not to be.

Gesturing to his followers to advance with caution, Matthew drew the Summer Sword, and advanced along the dirt trail in the wood they were in, and was confronted with a standoff; four Dalish hunters and eight Templar knights stood against each other, and while they were not drawing weapons, they were both plainly frothing at the mouth.

"I have told you before, _Templar,_" the leader of the Dalish spat. "We don't answer to you, your priests, or your god; you will not take our Keeper to your prison because of your fear and hatred."

"And _I _told _you, _Pagan," the leading Templar, a Knight-Lieutenant, replied. "Nothing will stand in the way of our divine mission. Now stand aside, or we will be forced to end all of you." When the elf hunters did not move, the Templar snorted in disgust. "Of course you savages wouldn't get the hint; none of you knife-ears have any sense at all. We should have eradicated your entire vermin race during the Exalted March on the Dales when we had the cha-"

At that moment, a crossbow bolt drove into the Lieutenant's chestpeice, the bodkin head piercing the steel breastplate, and driving deep into his ribs. The Templar fell like a sack of potatoes, gasping as blood began pouring into his pierced lung. Taken completely by surprise by the attack, the Templars were thrown into confusion, most not having seen where the bolt came from. One Knight-Corporal did, though, and turned to see Matthew put his crossbow back across his shoulder, draw the Summer Sword, and advance on the remaining Chantry men.

"It's the Warden Commander!" he exclaimed, voice filled with shock. "To ar-"!

Like his commander before him, Matthew cut the knight off, this time driving his blade into the gap just underneath the man's breastplate up to the hilt. Twisting the sword to cause further trauma to the man, he ripped the flaming blade out; it hissed and sizzled as the Templar's lifeblood boiled on the enchanted fire. Immediately, he struck a horizontal slash at the nearest other warrior, slashing his head clean off his shoulders. Again, the flames on the Summer Sword seared the blood vessels shut, and very little blood escaped the wound.

By this time, the remaining five templars had regained their senses, and charged him, screaming war cries. To most, having to face so many of the greatest military force in Andrastrian Thedas would have them running in terror, but Matthew had long since studied the tactics, weapons, armor, and most importantly the mindset of his most hated adversary. With the right tactics and application of force, he was confident he would crush them.

Merging with a spirit of compassion from the Fade, he feinted an overhead blow to the first Templar, than slashed at his legs instead. Templar armor sets had most of the protection focused on thick plate mail on their upper body; this was in response to their having to fight abominations and insane possessed corpses and skeletons, which focused their attacks on the head, torso, and arms. However, it came at the cost of protection to the legs, which only had a brightly colored kilt with Chantry symbols on top of a set of thin chainmail.

Neither posed any challenge to the Warden's weapon; the Summer Sword cut through the Templar's legs at the knees, and sent him to the ground, screaming in agony. With both legs amputated, and his heavy armor pinning him to the ground, he was no longer a threat, so long as Matthew kept his distance.

His next opponent immediately closed the gap between them, and began slashing at him with a complex series of attacks. Thanks to his Arcane Warrior abilities, though, Matthew easily dodged the attacks, swaying like a branch in a gale; occasionally, the bit missed his flesh by infinitesimal amounts. Finally, his enemy brought his sword down in an overhead attack, and the blade stuck fast in the ground. The Warden Commander smashed his foot into the Templar's wrist, feeling the bones break. His opponent dropped the blade, shrieking in pain, until Matthew cleaved his head in two.

The final three of the holy warriors finally displayed something resembling intelligence, and grouped close together in an attempt to overwhelm him. Unfortunately for them, Matthew had again prepared for this eventuality, and lobbed a fire grenade at the center soldier of the trio. The fragile glass container shattered on the ground at the Templars' feet, setting the kilt of the center warrior alight. He then did the exact thing you should not do when on fire; he panicked, jumping around and fanning the flames. The remaining two quickly broke rank and hopped away from the greasy flames.

And Matthew struck like a snake.

He began a complex series of blows against the Templar to his right. The soldier was clearly an excellent swordsman, but in the end, Matthew got past his guard, slashed his sword arm clean off, and drove the Summer Sword into the gap between his back and breast plates, skewering his lungs and heart. The Templar convulsed once, than was still. Yanking the blade from the corspe, it fell like a potato sack.

Suddenly, he felt a blow fall squarely on his side. Fortunately, it did not make it through his armor, but it did knock the wind out of him, and would undoubtedly leave a massive bruise. Before he could recover from this, the last Templar smashed his shield into his helmet, sending him reeling, with a ringing sound in his ears. Stumbling backwards, he was barely able to avoid the next blows from the enraged knight. Once he had regained some semblance of coordination, Matthew swung his sword out in front of him, trying to gain breathing room. The last Templar jumped back to avoid the blows, and by the time he was back within striking distance, he had recovered his senses.

Bringing the Summer Sword up to his chest, Matthew blocked next blow, and locked their blades together. He couldn't get a good look at the man through his helmet, but he could see his opponent's eyes, and they promised death for him. The Templar knew he could not kill Matthew and the Dalish Hunters, but he did not care; all he wished was that the man who had slaughtered his comrades died before he himself perished.

Matthew could almost admire that.

Leaning back, the Grey Warden kicked the Templar in the chest, forcing him back. He tried for a decapitation blow, but his opponent leaned back in a manner that belied his heavy armor. Instead of his neck, the Summer Sword smashed into the back of the man's Sun Shield, ripping it from the leather straps that allowed him to hold the shaped steel, and sending it flying ten feet away. The lone Templar gripped his long sword with both hands, clearly dismayed by the loss. It was not hard to see why; he had just lost his best protection. Matthew's longer reaching greatsword, and lighter armor, combined with his own sluggishness and lack of any real defense, would most likely spell his death.

A fact that was not lost on the Warden Commander.

Ginning wolfishly, Matthew lifted the Summer Sword over his head, and brought it down with armor-rending force. The Templar deflected the blow with a parry. Matthew struck again. And again. And again. Each time, he advanced, forcing the Templar to backpedal. Rage for all the crimes this man's Order had committed, both in his lifetime and throughout its existence, filled him, and his blows came harder and faster, while his opponent only grew weaker; Matthew could feel the man's arms tremble more and more with each successive blow. Finally, he smashed the Templar's sword out of his hand, and struck a blow on his opposite hip, cracking open the bone. Unable to support himself, Templar finally fell to his knees. Stepping forward, Matthew ripped the man's helmet off, and brought his flaming blade's tip up to his throat.

The Templar, a man at least 5 years his senior, made no effort to resist, panting for breath, and grimacing in pain. Looking into Matthew's eyes, he whispered, "Do you really think this a victory, Warden? My brothers will come with the strength and righteousness of the Maker, and-"

"Oh will you shut up, you pompous windbag," Matthew snarled. "Do you honestly think that after fighting a Blight that I find you or your Order of adulterer worshipers threatening at all?" And with that, he stabbed the blade forward, impaling the man through the neck, and, with a twist of the sword, popped his head off like a cork.

Panting, Matthew wiped the sweat from his brow, and paused to catch his breath. Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned and saw both the Dalish hunters and his Wardens come out onto the field of battle. Taking a deep breath, he walked back across the clearing, jamming the Summer Sword into the mouth of the whimpering burned Templar, ending his pain.

Nathaniel was the first to speak.

"Commander," he whispered, clearly in a state of shock by his commander's outburst. "Are you completely insane? What have you done? Why would you do this?" The rogue's voice raised louder and louder with each word.

"Don't give me that, Nathaniel," Matthew replied slowly. "I know how these bastards work; they would have killed these hunters no matter what we tried to do or say. They would have attacked them, and demanded that we assist them. This was the only way that we could have ever stopped them."

"Well, we appreciate your assistance, Grey Warden," the leading Dalish replied, looking rather wary at Matthew, clearly concerned with his martial outburst. "However, I must question why you would do so; don't most humans revere the Templar order as great guardians and protectors?"

"They do," Matthew confirmed, placing the Summer Sword back on his shoulder. "But I'm not most humans."

"Clearly," the Dalish answered with a wry smile. "Anyway, thank you again for your help, Warden. Now, we should leave, before…"

The elf trailed off as he looked over Matthew's shoulder, and his features twisted into one of surprise and disgust. Turning, he saw that the hunter had focused his ire on Velanna of all people, whose features had tightened.

"Meron," was her barely audible greeting.

"Velanna," he replied, his mocking voice sickening polite. "Well, well, this is certainly a surprise. You travelling with…"

"Humans," the mage finished. "I know, Meron. The irony does not escape me, clanmate."

"We are no longer your clan, Velanna," Meron rebuffed.

Confused, Matthew turned to his Dalish Warden, and said, "Velanna, I thought that your clan had been killed by darkspawn in the Wending Wood."

"They were my closest friends, but not all of my clan."

"Velanna and her ilk," Meron explained, "were exiled. She has no clan. We-"

"STOP," Velanna demanded immediately. "I do not wish to speak of this, Meron. The others are dead, and Seranni is gone, taken by the darkspawn."

"And infected by them," Matthew muttered under his breath.

"Ilshea warned her not to go with you, Velanna," Meron said sadly. "Do you see what you've brought on her?"

"Then tell Ilshea that she was right," the ex-Keeper snapped. "Oh, I can see her smug-"

"Ilshea has passed on Velanna," the hunter cut off. Shaking his head, Meron continued mercilessly. "You know nothing but hatred. The clan is better off without your poison."

At this point, Matthew was about to intervene and request that the hunter stop insulting one of his Wardens, but before he could, Nathaniel beat him to it. Towering over his Dalish counterpart, he snarled, "I won't have you insulting her, hunter. Velanna has been nothing but an asset to the Fereldan Grey Wardens since her Joining. She has saved our lives more times that I can count."

Meron looked Nathaniel in the face with a look of utter disbelief on his face, than looked at his former clanmate with an expression of awe. "A human is willing to defend you? This speaks volumes Velanna." Turning back to the Commander, the hunter said, "I'm afraid that we have lingered here too long. I bid you farewell, Wardens."

Matthew gave the Dalish his own farewell to the hunting party. Once the elves were half way down the road, he was called back to reality by his resident swill-smelling dwarf.

"Uh, Commander," Oghren grunted, holding out a piece of blood-spattered velum out to him. "I think you might want to have a look at this."

"What is it," he asked, taking the piece of paper from him and opening it to look at what was written.

"Well," Oghren elaborated, "according to that there letter, these skirt men came all the way out here to ambush us. Apparently, some bitch that goes by the name of Marog wants you dead."

**A.N. **

**I am terribly sorry that I haven't updated this story for so long. The truth is, over the summer, my muse for my stories has been seriously slacking off; it took every ounce of my willpower to get this together. **

**So, just to make it clear, I have not abandoned this, or any, of my stories. Updates will just be slow and all over the place. **


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The entire glade went dead silent. No one dared to even breathe, fearing the reaction of their commander; by now, everyone present apart from Sigrun knew just how Matthew felt about the Chantry, and could only guess at what his reaction to this would be.

Keeping his expression blank, the Commander reached out and took the blood-spattered vellum from Oghren, and read it in silence. Everyone stood at guard, waiting for the inevitable explosion that they all knew was coming. When their commander did react however, it was in a way none of them expected.

He laughed.

The sound was so unexpected every Grey Warden in the clearing was taken aback. Seeing their confused faces, Matthew chuckled, and explained, "First Bann Esmerelle, now Revered Mother Morag; am I really doing such a poor job of running this Arling that I must have not one but two attempts on my life?"

A moment after this unexpected jovial mood, however, all humor vanished from Matthew's face, leaving only cold anger and steel determination on his countenance. Nathaniel asked, "What could the Revered Mother ever hope to gain from this, sending out Templars to assassinate you? If it ever came to light that the servants of the Chantry participated in the outright murder of the Hero of Fereldan, it would utterly destroy their reputation in this Kingdom; they are already on shaky ground after their support of the Orlesian occupation, and the Grand Cleric of Denerim certainly made things worse after she barred the doors of the city's cathedral and left hundreds to be slaughtered at the gates during the Blight."

"Morag already has that covered," the Commander whispered, voice hard and cold as ice. "She told these templars that after they killed me and any witnesses to the crime, read 'all of you', the other mothers at the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer were to plant evidence in Mother Julia's chambers making _her_ look the perpetrator. Apparently, Julia has been preaching that the faithful should be more accepting of those outside normal society, namely the mages and the Dalish, and after the Battle of Denerim she has started to gain ground. So, Morag has decided that she needs to go, and being framed for my death will be the ultimate discredit to Julia's unorthodoxy." Faced skewed in disgust, he added, "Not to mention the fact that she will be able to spew some nonsense of being able to overlook my blasphemy of not bending down and planting my lips on ring finger. Bah!"

"I'm sorry, but you all have lost me," Sigrun suddenly piped up. "What is the Chantry?"

"The single most compelling argument that we should all lay down our arms and let the darkspawn destroy the surface world in order to ensure that nothing as horrible as it can ever happen again," Matthew declared.

"It is a religion, Sigrun," Nathaniel explained. "The single largest on the surface, and one which most humans follow; they believe that, if they spread the Chant of Light to all corners of the world, their god, the Maker, will come to Thedas and turn the world into a paradise. However, there are some," he added with a poignant look at the Commander, "who disagree."

Sigrun nodded in understanding, but then appeared confused. "Is murdering people who disagree with them an actual part of their doctrine?"

"No," Nathaniel said. "It is not."

"Then why did they try to do it now?"

"Because they are hypocritical and are unable to conceive that someone can disagree with them," Matthew spat out. Folding up the vellum paper, he placed the letter containing the order to murder him in a small pocket in his pack, before turning to the rest of the group. "I'm sorry everyone, but I'm afraid we will have to hold off getting back to the Keep for our well-earned rest; we're making a detour to Amaranthine, and taking the most highly regarded religious figure in the Arling prisoner, an action that could very well result in all-out war between the Grey Wardens and the Chantry."

"In other words, all in a day's work," Anders said, his characteristically cocky grin returning with a vengeance. "Don't worry about offending me, Commander, I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Looking around, Matthew saw all of the members of his group acknowledge their assent to his plan. Sigrun was especially enthusiastic; she was tickled pink at the prospect of seeing a city on the surface world. As they were fishing out any coins they could from the dead Templars, they turned down the road leading to the port city and set out; Matthew noticed that Velanna was walking apart from the rest of the group, deep in thought, and appearing dejected and morose. When Nathaniel approached her to ask what was wrong, she simply shied away; even this lacked her usual hostility. It was clear that she was still hurting from the words that her former clanmate had said.

Once this errand was finished, Matthew resolved to talk to Velanna, find out the exact circumstances behind her leaving her clan, and try to help her overcome this.

It took another day and a half of travel before they got to Amaranthine. When the Wardens finally reached the port city, Matthew immediately began questioning the guardsmen and women at the gate as to their commanding officer's location. Eventually, one told him that Constable Aiden, the officer that they had assisted with the smugglers, was busy dealing with two market stall owners who each claimed that the other was stealing from them. As the group made their way to the city's market corner, however, a passing dwarf accidentally bumped into Sigrun.

"Oh, sorry about that; I-" Suddenly, the dwarf went dead silent as she looked at Sigrun, recognition flashing in her eyes, which quickly turned to rage. "Why, you ungrateful, backstabbing duster!"

"Hello, Misha," Sigrun murmured, shame and guilt replacing her normally perky features. It was clear to all that these two dwarves had a history together, and that it was not a pleasant one.

Turning to Misha, Matthew said, "Do not speak to any of my Wardens in that manor again, woman. And how do you know Sigrun?"

"I was a merchant in Orzammar," Misha said, not backing down from the Commander's glare and returning it with one of her own. "Until _she_ ruined me. I had her running errands for me in exchange for food, blankets, even some coin when I could slip it under the table. It was keeping her out of trouble. Thought I was doing a good deed. Then, I hear House Bemot's lost a gold statuette of their Paragon. Next day, it turns up in my shop. If you know anything about dwarven culture, I don't have to tell you what happened next."

_Indeed she doesn't, _Matthew thought. The dwarves of Orzammar had an extreme respect, though he would say obsession, with their traditions, particularly the caste system. If a merchant appeared to have stolen an object from a noble, they would look no further than that surface appearance, even if the merchant was innocent. Exile to the surface would be the least such a dwarf could expect.

"Sigrun…" Matthew said, waiting for an answer. Insulting slur or not, if Sigrun had done something that had destroyed a woman's life, he wanted the truth.

"I was running with a crime lord named Beraht," the rouge said, eyes downcast. "He was worried that it might be traced back to him, so he told me to plant it in Misha's shop. He said he would kill her if I didn't do it."

"House Bemot nearly had me _executed_," Misha hissed. "You could have spoken up, told them the truth!"

"And then Beraht would have killed me!"

"Of course," Misha said, shaking her head. "All you cared about was yourself, just like every other duster. I don't have time to deal with this; I need to get some skins to a tanner. Out of my way , brand."

The angry dwarven woman made to move past Sigrun, but was suddenly brought to a halt when Matthew brought the Summer Sword down in front of her throat. Freezing in shock and fear, she looked up into the Commander's steel gaze.

"Never. Use that word. In front of me," he whispered, voice cold as a blizzard. He held the sword at her neck for a moment, than lowered the flaming blade, allowing the woman to leave, which she did quite quickly.

Taking a look at his dwarven companion, Matthew asked, "Do you want to talk about this, Sigrun?"

She shook her head. "It's in the past, Commander. We should get going."

"As you wish." And with that, he led the group toward the market quarter.

It wasn't hard to find the Constable; a small crowd had gathered to witnesses the spectacle that had arisen as the constable and his men attempted to calm and separate the two market stall owners. Standing back in the shadows so as to avoid the sight of anyone who would report his presence to the Chantry, Matthew watched as the officer tried desperately to contain the two furious merchants. After a few moments of hearing the two men bicker ceaselessly, two groups of guardsmen came up to Aiden. It turned out that both of the merchants had been telling the truth; they had been stealing goods from each other at the same time. After two guardsmen had lead the two thieves away, Matthew and his group approached the constable, the Commander holding the folded paper containing the order for the attempt on his life in hand.

Spotting him, Aiden did a double take before standing at attention. "Commander, it is a pleasure to have you in our city again. Forgive me, I don't have any proper greeting for you; we did not receive word that you would be arriving."

"That was intentional, Constable," Matthew said, careful to keep his voice down. "I needed to enter Amaranthine as inconspicuously as possible. I need to speak with you immediately, in private."

Catching just how serious he was acting immediately, Aiden nodded, and lead both his and Matthew's group into a nearby alleyway. After checking to make sure that they were not followed, the Constable asked, "What is going on Commander; why is this necessary?"

Taking one last glance around, Matthew leaned towards the man, and said, "There has been an attempt on my life, Constable. And the perpetrators are in the city."

Aiden and his men hissed with fury at the revelation. "Maker's blood," the Constable spat, eyes hard as iron. "Tell us who has done this act, Commander, and we will ensure that they will face justice."

"A group of templars, under the command of Revered Mother Morag and all but one of the remaining mothers at the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer," Matthew said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The guardsmen before him went from furious to stuned before anyone could blink. Taking advantage of the silence, he handed the letter to the Constable, saying, "I found this on the leader of a group of Templars laying in ambush while on my way back to Vigil's Keep. It should clear up any confusion."

_Except there was not ambush_, Morrigan's smug voice echoed in his mind. _You simply slaughtered them all the moment you saw them and used protecting the elves as an excuse. _

_He doesn't need to know that. _

Aiden spent no less than five minutes examining the letter from the Revered Mother, trying to comprehend what he was reading. Finally, the man lowered the letter, and put his hand up to his face in disbelief. After collecting himself, he said, "I cannot believe that a holy mother of the Chantry would stoop as low as this, Commander, but I cannot deny what I see in front of me. What would you have my men and I do?"

The Commander gave the group a humorless smile, and began laying out his plan.

oo-00-oo

It took half an hour before the details of Matthew's plan for his unprecedented arrest of most of the senior members of a city's Chantry to be hammered out, and for the groups of city guardsmen and women that Aiden had recruited after his reveal of Morag's treachery. The Constable was sure to bring in only those of the city guard that he was sure would be unwaveringly loyal to them; while the Revered Mother was secretly despised and disliked by the city's populous, the Chantry itself was held in high regard by most, and there was the possibility that some of their supposed allies would turn of them. It wasn't until these loyal guards were posted at various points around the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer to ensure the Mothers did not try to escape that Matthew and Aiden made their move on Morag.

Approaching the front door of the religious building with his group and Constable Aiden's personally chosen men up the stairs to the Chantry's front door. The Constable had protested this sledgehammer approach, on the grounds that they would provoke the Andrastian Chantry even more than they already were, but Matthew would have none of it; this was the second time in a matter of weeks that this a member of this organization had made an attempt on his life and the lives of his Wardens, and what little patience he had for this religious group had long since been used up. Fortunately, there were virtually no Templars nearby; the recent chaos of the darkspawn incursions had forced even these pompous armored asses to leave their cushioned hall and assist the city guard in policing Amaranthine.

The two groups assembled on either side of the large double doors of the building, ignoring the Chanter by her board of requests, who was paying no attention to them as she knelt and began praying to the God she had devoted her life to. Shaking his head at what he saw as incredible insipidness, the Commander gestured for his followers to proceed, and pushed his door open as Aiden did his own.

Marching through the opening, the group separated marching up and through the aisles between the pews the commoners sat on when they attended services. All of the mothers of the Chantry, except for Julia, were assembled in a circle just before the podium, Revered Mother Morag at their head. Looking up, and seeing the Warden approach her, went completely pale, and began backing up unsteadily, mumbling and appeared to be trying to scream, but was too stricken by fear and shock to do so. Seeing their leader's reaction, the remaining priests followed her gaze to the door, and by the time they saw the danger, Matthew and his men were already half-way to them.

"Revered Mother Morog," Matthew's voice boomed across the small cathedral, "Mothers of the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer. You are all under arrest, charged with treason, and conspiracy to commit murder. Guardsmen!"

At his order, the men with him moved in on the group, pulling out manacles as they did so. At this point, the guilty priests scattered, and all attempted to run to different exits to try and escape. Unfortunately for them, the guards the Commander had prepositioned came through the door and seized the surprised priests before they could do more than jump in surprise, shackled their wrists and chained their manacles together. After a brief struggle, the traitorous holy women were all bound together like a chain gang of prisoners. Several still protested and tried to resist, including Morag who had regained her senses, but a few quick yanks on their chains quickly forced the bound group to move forward.

"What in the Maker's name is going on?"

Turning to the main entrance of the Chantry, he saw a small group of chantry sisters, the eldest no older than her mid-twenties, lead by Mother Julia, who was looking over the spectacle of the entire upper echelon of the city's religious group being clapped in irons and hulled around like common thugs.

"Ah, Mother Julia," Matthew said in greeting, keeping his voice purposefully non-chalet. "So nice to see you again. Is there something I can help you with?"

The Mother spluttered for a moment, and then regained her composure to continue her indignation. "Commander, this is outrageous! You have the Revered Mother and half the priests of this Chantry in chains! Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of Thedas!"

"It has now," Matthew said smugly, a small grin spreading his face. Through the ring, he felt Morrigan groan at his childishness.

Seeing Julia starting to turn red, though, he dropped his mocking attitude, and turned to Aiden. "Constable, make sure our new friends don't try anything. I'll explain the situation to Mother Julia." Turning back to incensed priest, he gestured for her to follow him into a nearby room, where they could talk in relative privacy. As soon as the door to the small meeting room closed, Julia was directly in his face, their noses almost touching.

"Commander," the woman hissed, "I realize that you do not hold Chantry in high regard, but this is unacceptable! Morag has served as Revered Mother of this Chantry for twenty years, and now you are dragging her, and all the other high priests, out in manacles! What possible reason could you have for this?"

Matthew handed the letter to the woman, saying simply, "I found this on the leader of a Templar ambush team. It should answer any questions you have on my motives."

Tearing the paper from his fingers, Julia smoothed out the piece of velum, and began rapidly scanning the letter. As she continued through the instructions from the Revered Mother, though, she began to slow down here reading, and began to go pale as a sheet. When she finally finished reading that those she had considered her friends and comrades for years had ordered him outright murdered and have the deed pined on her, Julia lowered the velum and looked down at the floor, eyes glazed and knees shaking. Slowly, she backed up and sunk onto a nearby bench staring at her limp hands, allowing the letter to fall to the floor.

Stepping forward, Matthew knelt down and placed a hand on the grieving woman's shoulder, picking the piece of velum off the ground as he did. After a moment, Julia looked up, shock and sadness filling her features, and asked rhetorically, "Why? Why would they do this? To either of us?"

"Because they are evil, manipulative, hypocritical, and feel completely justified going completely against the creed they swore to uphold whenever something pops up that they feel is inconvenient to them," The Warden said, voice laden with disgust.

"You say that like I should expect it," Julia said.

"This is now the second time this organization has tried to murder me and my wardens, Mother Julia," Matthew explained. "Not to mention all the other inexcusable acts I have witnessed them perpetrate, such as trying to enact genocide on the Circle of Magi when they could have quite easily saved the entire tower themselves. Or supporting Loghain Mac Tir's coup and regicide, only turning on him when they found out he had kidnapped a Templar and assisted in a blood mage's escape. And then there was the Grand Cleric in Denerim, who ordered the doors of the city's Chantry shut during the siege against the darkspawn and leaving hundreds of the city's civilians to die at their hands. Not to mention the Divine's complete support of the Orlesian invasion during the Blessed Age. And that's without mentioning-"

"Alright, alright," Julia said softly. "I understand." Finally looking the Commander in the eye, she asked, "But what do you intend to do with Morag and those who follow her?"

"Ordinarily, I would send them to trial, and have them executed for treason," Matthew answered without batting an eyelash. "However, given the more pressing darkspawn issue, I will have to postpone those plans. I will have them escorted to Vigil's Keep, and imprison them there until such a time as the dearkspawn threat has passed."

Nodding, Julia stood up, no longer looking as though she were going to pass out, and said, "Very well then, Commander; given the evidence you have uncovered, I cannot, and will not, oppose this. Morag and her followers have disgraced themselves and the Chantry, and should face appropriate punishment for their crimes. Now, if you will excuse me, I must ensure this unheard of development causes as little upheaval as possible. I bid you good day."

"And I to you, Revered Mother Julia," Matthew said, using the priest's new title; as the last Chantry mother at the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer, Julia was the only one with the rank to take over running the church, and would certainly have her hands full after his little coup. The two exited the small meeting room, Julia making a point of ignoring her former compatriots.

Walking up to Constable Aiden, he said, "Constable, it is my intention to take these traitors to Vigil's Keep for incarceration. Would you be good enough to spare a group of your men to assist our escort?"

Aiden appeared conflicted for a moment, as he needed all the men he could for keeping order in the city, but eventually relented, and agreed to spare a group of five guardsmen to help guard the prisoners on the way to the Keep. And so, with his Wardens, city guardsmen, and sobbing, shrieking arrested priests in tow, Matthew gave to order to return to Vigil's Keep.


	21. Chapter 21

**Authors Note: In case you guys don't know, the first trailer for Dragon Age: Inquisition has been released. Go and watch it right now; it is all kinds of awesome!**

Chapter 21

The sight that graced the city of Amaranthine as Matthew marched through the streets was not one that would soon be forgotten. As the motley group passed to the main gate, they attracted a crowd of onlookers, who like all others before were utterly baffled by the sight of high ranking Chantry priests being dragged around like a chain gang. The citizens grouping together followed the group, unsure of how to react; it was common knowledge that the Revered Mother was not at all popular with the denizens of the Amaranthine, and they all knew that a secular ruler would not attempt to arrest a high-ranking religious figure unless he had a VERY good reason, but they had all been raised from birth to revere the Chantry and its servants, and that was not something that would just be cast aside out of hand.

It took quite awhile to reach the gates of the city; while the civilians usually kept well clear of the group, the arrested Mothers were causing all sorts of problems, either wailing, calling out to the people demanding they stop him, or speaking the Chant as loud as they could as though Andraste herself would come down and save them, which made absolutely no sense given that these women had devoted their entire lives to telling anyone and everyone that the Maker would never return to them until everyone worshipped him no matter how much they asked, and occasionally making attempts to break and run away as a group. Eventually, after he could take no more, he stopped the group and ordered the prisoners gagged and for at least three men or women to keep a hold on the chains, which the guards and his wardens did after a moment's hesitation. Afterwards, they still progressed slowly, but with a good deal less noise and commotion.

The only real problem came, predictably, from another Templar, a teenager who had apparently only just taken his vows and joined the force. Just as they were exiting through the gates, the said anti-magic warrior was helping several guardsmen compound a cart that apparently been filled with stolen weapons and armor. However, immediately upon seeing the precession headed out of the city, he immediately dropped the job, picked up his discarded Sun Shield, and moved to block the exit.

_And here we go again_, Morrigan sighed, though Matthew knew enough about her to detect a hit of enthusiasm for how he was going to react. Smirking slightly as his wife's comments, Matthew continued on his way, pretending he did not see the obviously approaching soldier.

Sadly, this strategy did not work for long, as the Templar almost immediately came to stop directly in his path. Holding up his one empty hand, he proclaimed, "Warden-Commander, in the name of the Chantry, servants of the Holy Maker, I command you to-"

"Son," Matthew said, holding his open hand out in front of himself. Despite his only being a few years older than the boy in his path, given his experience he felt he was justified in using the term "son". "Don't. Just… just don't. You won't like how this will end."

At first, the templar stood his ground, unwilling to yield to him. However, after Nathaniel and Sigrun moved up the flank their Commander and noticing that none of the guardsmen that he had been working with just a moment before were not coming to his assistance, the young soldier of the Chantry eventually lowered his arm, and stood aside with his head bowed, clearly admitting defeat. Matthew waved the precession onward.

_Amazing, _he commented through his ring's link. _I was e_x_pecting to have to wait ten minutes for him to shut up about how it was his divine mission to serve the old bats before I had to pull out the Summer Sword and chop his legs off. _

_Indeed, _Morrigan replied. _The intelligence of the Chanty's followers must be inversely proportional to their age. _

_Uh…_

_It means that the older they get, the less intelligent they become, _was his wife's scathing reply. _Or was that too high brow for the mighty Grey Warden to understand?_

_I get it, I get it!_

oo-00-oo

The march back to the Keep was not nearly as speedy as the Wardens' trip to Amaranthine to arrest the traitorous priests; the shackled prisoners slowed their progress to a slow march. Matthew estimated it would take three days to return, yet another annoyance these women had inflicted upon him. Still, in the end, the only thing he could do was keep dragging them along with him.

The group of Warden's, guards, and prisoners had already been marching for a few hours now, and it was already becoming apparent that the last group was not used to coping with even this much physical activity; already they were starting to show signs of the fatigue. He had no intention of stopping, though; this detour was already eating up far more time than he would have liked and he wasn't going let it take anymore than necessary.

Suddenly, he heard a large thump from behind him, followed by a series of crashes and muffled cries. Turning his head, saw that one of the priests in the center of the line had fallen to her knees, apparently hyperventilating through her gag, and had brought the entire line of prisoners to a staggering halt, even sending a few of her fellows into the dust with her. Two of the guardsmen immediately moved to try and get the woman on her feet again, but she didn't pay their prodding or orders any heed. In fact, she seemed to be completely unaware of them; she simply held her manacled hands into her chest in prayer, unaware of the stress it was placing on the arms of her companions, and stared straight ahead with her eyes wide as saucers, breathing so rapidly Matthew began to think she would hurt herself. The guards that had tried to force her back to her feet looked at each other, then at all the other members of the group, unsure of what to do.

After watching the spectacle that had unfolded before him with what he could only describe as completely detached disinterest, Matthew turned to Anders, and gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head in the prisoner's direction, to whom the mage trotted up , knelt down, to and began examining after a brief double take.

A few moments after the Spirit Healer's hands stopped glowing, he stood up, and said, "Best as I can tell, she's just suffering from a panic attack, Commander." Cocking his head to the side, he looked at Matthew, and asked cheekily, "I wonder what could have caused that…"

"Your wit knows no bounds, Anders," Matthew deadpanned, though admittedly with a small smirk. "If you have any spells that could get her back on her feet, I would appreciate it; we have things to do besides escort prisoners, as you are no doubt aware."

"Will do, Commander," was the mage's chipper reply, beginning to channel his magic to get the prisoner moving again.

"NO!"

The sudden scream made everyone in earshot jump in surprise, though it didn't take long to find where it came from; the Revered Mother who had started this entire debacle had somehow managed to get her gag off in the chaos.

"Don't you dare use your filthy magic on a holy mother, cur," she spat at Anders.

"Get her back on her feet, Anders," the Warden ordered, acting as though Morag had not spoken.

"Do you think what you are doing will go unanswered, heathen!" Morag shrieked, now turning her ire onto him. "The Divine in Val Royeaux will bring the wrath of the Maker down upon you and all allies! Entire armies of Templars and Chevaliers, the true faithful, will toss you and your ilk into the Amaranthine Ocean!"

"Oh NO," Matthew gasped, adopting a look of mock horror. "Not the Chevaliers! We would be helpless against such an opponent. I mean, the only recent military triumph Fereldan has to its name is defeating an entire Blight in a year, with only half of the country's backing. What possible chance would we have?"

This got a laugh out of the guards, as any joke that deriding the Orlisians would almost always be found amusing in Fereldan, and two city guards accompanying the precession reapplied the priest's gag before she could continue her rant. By that time, Anders had forcibly calmed down the panicking prisoner and gotten her back on her feet. Thus, the march back to Vigil's Keep continued.

As the march continued and the Commander of the Grey's mind wandered, though, he had to admit that, for all his bluster, his homeland would be in a very bad way if Orlais were to invade again now. While Fereldan had defeated the darkspawn invasion in record time, its infrastructure was in shambles and its armies were gutted. It would take years, maybe a decade or two, before the nation would get back on its feet fully, and many members of Orlaisian nobility would likely make a move to reclaim their "lost province".

This was another reason why he was in favor strengthening ties with the Dalish and the Mages, on top of the simple morality; when the powdered nobles of their neighbor inevitably sent their knights into the Bannorn, they would need something to help balance the odds. And few things could help tip the balance a war than having archers that could pick off the enemy's officers from a few hundred yards away and support soldiers that could fling lightning and fireballs from their finger tips.

_Oh, finally, _Morrigan exclaimed, voice filled with relief and joy. _I was beginning to think that you had no logic or practicality at all!_

_Oh don't worry, dear, _Matthew replied, mentally smirking. _I'm sure I'll find some puppies to save from a burning barn to balance it out. _

_Knowing you, I would not be surprised. _

oo-00-oo

The majority of the next three days were spent without any other such interruptions; by the second day, the prisoners had finally stopped all acts of rebellion, some under the persuasion of a few hits to the head with a switch, and the trip reverted to a simple march down the path. Unfortunately, when they had stopped at a small inn to purchase some food and refill their water skins for the guards, they had encountered something of a small riot as the occupants tried to rush the chain gang to try and free the priests. However, once Matthew and his followers had forced them to calm down and explained the situation, even allowing one of the literate patrons to read the incriminating letter, they suddenly rushed the group again, this time with the intent lynching the priests they had just tried to free.

It took a great deal of willpower for Matthew to bring himself to stop them. After that, though, there were no further interferences.

That was not to say the time was pleasant. By this point, the Grey Wardens had been on the road for quite some time, and several days passed the point where they were supposed to be back a Vigil's Keep. Between this and the constant drag of escort duty, every one of the Wardens, even the usually happily drunk Oghren, were extremely bitter and ready to lash out over anything, an attitude which was quickly spread to the Amaranthine guards. Almost all of the Commander's followers sighed with relief when the group finally reached the fortress.

Giving the guards directions to the dungeons and the barracks, to deposit the arrested priests and get some rest respectively, Matthew entered the keep proper, dismissing his Wardens as he did so. While the majority of group immediately went to their bunks, Sigrun stayed with him, following the Commander to the throne room, calling Seneschal Varel to him as he entered.

"Yes, Commander?" Varel said in greeting, giving a slightly startled look at Sigrun.

"Seneschal, I have a new potential recruit for the Wardens," he explained. Gesturing to the dwarf, he continued with, "This is Sigrun, Legionnaire of the Dead. Sigrun, this is Varel, Seneschal of Vigil's Keep."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sigrun," Varel said, offering his hand out in greeting, which the female dwarf hesitantly shook. "We will need time to prepare the Joining ritual so that you can become a full Warden. In the meantime, shall I give you a tour of the Keep and show you where you will be staying?"

Sigrun's face lit up even more than usual at the last comment. "Are Grey Wardens begs made from Ogre bones?" she asked, obviously having waited quite awhile in order to ask that question.

Varel laughed at the comment, and replied "No, I'm afraid they aren't."

Sigrun's face became a mix of disappointment, disbelief and shock. "What? But why wouldn't they be? The Grey Wardens are the greatest fighters against the darkspawn. Why wouldn't you have beds made with bones of the strongest of the beasts?"

"A lack of time, and focusing on themselves alive at the cost of trophies, I suppose," Varel said, clearly not expecting this topic of conversation. However, when Sigrun lowered her head in disappointment, he added, "However, if you can find and bring me some Ogres, I will see what I can do about getting you your bed."

The dwarf had immediately accepted the offer, despite the rather laughable prospect of Sigrun managing to drag back the corpse of such a massive creature; Matthew had seen the dwarf in action, and had nothing but respect for her skills, but that didn't mean he thought that she could lift something so much larger and heavier than her and bring it all the way back to the keep from the Deep Roads. Seeing that the other two were starting their tour while he wasn't paying attention, he began to move to catch up with them.

_Don't. _

His wife's voice in his mind brought him up short. _What for? _

_Don't you remember what I told you when left on this mission? _Morrigan asked, her voice seductive and coy.

Smirking, and deciding to have a bit of fun, Matthew replied, _You complained about not being allowed to cast spells? _

_Not that, no. _

_You said that as soon as our child was born, you would be out in the field with me again? _

_Wrong, _Morrigan answered, irritation coloring her voice.

_Oh, I know! _He exclaimed in his mind, still evading the subject he already knew was on his wife's mind. _You told Matilda that she wasn't your errand girl, and you could do things yourself!_

_Stop this incessant foolishness, __**husband**__, _said an almost demonic-sounding voice over the link between the rings. _And come up to our chambers, before you convince me to come down and rearrange you face with a file, a letter opener, and a needle and thread._

Chuckling under his breath, and smirking in anticipation, he immediately began making for his chambers a fast clip. He was so focused on his destination that he very nearly ran right into several servants on his way there, continuing after issuing a series of quick apologies to the victims. By the time he got there, he had already gone up several flights of stairs, still in his armor, no less, and had to pause to catch his breath. Once he was finished gasping, he opened the door, and, still slightly winded, began placing his armor and weapons on his personal armor and weapon racks, until he was wearing the padded clothes he put on under the metal chain mail. Entering the main area of his personal quarters, he looked around for Morrigan… and when he saw her, his jaw landed somewhere in the deep roads.

Morrigan was standing in front of their bed, standing at her full height, arms crossed on her chest, and a look of indignation and annoyance on her face. That was not what held his attention, though. What did was the fact that his now heavily pregnant wife was wearing her old ropes from before she had taken up Arcane Warrior abilities. She had, somehow, managed to fit herself back into her patchwork leather skirt, her distended stomach making the fit extremely tight. Her purple top was also draped over her belly, and her homemade bra now looked severely undersized.

"Well," she spat, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. "Are you finished being a complete simpleton, or would you like to keep on- mph!"

She never even came close to finishing her sentence; Matthew crossed the room, pulled Morrigan into as tight an embrace as her girth would allow, and began kissing her senseless, which the woman returned after a moment of surprise. Continuing his assault on his wife's mouth and tongue, Matthew began reaching around Morrigan's bare back, searching blindly for the strings that held her fragile top and undergarments together. Finally, his hand brushed across the knot, which was undone almost a second later. At the same time, Morrigan was unlacing his shirt and pulling it up over his head, forcing them to momentarily separate before launching back into their Orleasian kiss with renewed vigor.

Eventually, and they were never able to recall exactly how, the enamored couple ended up on their bed, Morrigan sitting upright against the head rest with Matthew kneeling next to her, continuing their oral wrestling match, with one hand on her check and the other bringing her now bare leg up against his hip.

Unfortunately, as all this was happening, a highly unwanted burst of logic managed to worm its way into his lust-crazed mind, and as much as he wanted to, he simply could not ignore it. Drawing back slightly, Matthew interrupted the exercise, much to his wife's annoyance.

"Wait, Morrigan," he asked, the thought that had gotten in his mind making quite confused. "Didn't Matilda say that we shouldn't be doing this?"

"Yes," she answered briskly, with a hint of her condescendence whenever she felt she was speaking to someone acting thick. "What of it?"

Narrowing his eyes, now more confused than ever, Matthew asked, "Well, if Matilda said we shouldn't be doing this, then why are we-". Before he could finish the question, though, he suddenly realized exactly why Morrigan was disobeying her mid wife. "Never mind, silly question."

"Good," his wife replied, satisfied with his answer. "Now, if you please…"

Smirking, he immediately resumed their activities a second time. As the couple continued, Matthew began to shift his hand from Morrigan's knee up to her thigh, and then higher still. Gently, he eased his hand into her undergarments, pushing them down and off of her legs. Returning back to wife, Matthew began rubbing two fingers against her clit, causing Morrigan to moan into his mouth. Continuing, he went on with his administrations for nearly a minute.

And then felt his hand drenched as a large amount of water game gushing out of his wife all at once.

The couple became stone still, neither one moving, and with their eyes wide as saucers in surprise and mortification. Of all the things that could have happened during their lovemaking, this was not one that either of them had expected.

"Please tell me that wasn't what I think it was," Matthew said, almost begging that Morrigan would refute what was right in front of him.

"I could, but I would be lying," Morrigan sighed.

Matthew groaned softly, than muttered, "Alright then." Climbing off the bed, he pulled his trousers back on, then helped Morrigan stand upright. Going to the dresser, they pulled out a white nightgown, and Morrigan pulled it on over her head until it reached slightly past her knees. That done, they returned to the bed, and Matthew helped his wife back into the bed where she laid on her back, head propped up on the pillows.

"Are you comfortable," he asked, suddenly acting extremely professional even though it really wasn't necessary.

"Yes, I suppose," Morrigan said, reaching over to her the book on the nearby dresser. Upon closer inspection, Matthew saw it was Flemeth's grimior.

"Alright then," Matthew said. "I'll go and get Matilda." And with that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. With that Morrigan sighed, and began reading from the old tome, resigned to a long wait to an event that would no doubt be unpleasant.

Suddenly, the door to their chamber burst open again, Matthew stormed into the room, utter fury on his face. Before Morrigan could do anything more than flinch, though, he came to a stop at the side of the bed and leaned forward, staring down at her stout midrift.

"When you get out of there," he snarled at the quivering bulge, "you are in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE!"

And with that, he stormed off to find the midwife. As he did so, though, he felt a quick tightening of his abdominal muscle. Writing it off as anticipation, Matthew ignored it, and began his search for Matilda.

oo-00-oo

_12 hours later…_

At Vigil's Keep, like everywhere else people lived, births were not uncommon, especially during times of conflict when refugees were constantly pouring into the castles and fortified towns and cities for safety and shelter. Thus, the screams of someone in labor pain were not unusual.

What was unusual, though, was that the woman was not the only one who was in agony.

Matthew and Morrigan collapsed after the last contraction, both sweating boulders and eyes bloodshot. Thanks to the rings they shared, the both of them were going through the same ordeal. Morrigan had told him to take off the thing once the pain had started setting in, but, stubborn as he was, Matthew refused to take it off, saying that if she would have to endure this, than he would do the same. A sentiment he had quickly come to regret.

_By all the demons in the Fade, _he groaned in his mind. _Getting chewed on by the High Dragon in Haven was PLEASANT compared to this!_

_Well, you were the one who insisted on doing this, _came Morrigan's, not unreasonably, unsympathetic reply.

He merely grunted in reply, sagging into his chair, staring at the closed door to his main chamber. In spite of the fact that, for all intents and purposes, he was giving birth also, Matilda had kicked him out of bedroom for the entire process just like every other expectant father in her career. It was the first time that he had been just as peeved at the woman as his wife had been.

Suddenly, through the like of their rings, Matthew felt Morrigan suffer another contraction, and the two through back their heads and howled in pain simultaneously. It seemed to take forever for it to pass, and the moment it did, through the door, he heard his wife shout, "Damn it, woman, how much longer is this going to take?"

"It is about halfway out," Matilda replied, her tone detached and unemotional, the product of dozens, if not hundreds, of such experiences. "Now if you would please be quite, and push, this will be done a great deal sooner."

Snarling in fury and helplessness, Morrigan did as she was told, until she had yet another contraction. She let a tortured sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scream, while Matthew simply locked up, unable to move or scream, and nearly blacked out. As soon as the contraction stopped, Morrigan gathered her breath, turned to face the closed door, and shouted, "Matthew, you bastard, you did this to me!"

"Oh, don't even try using that argument with me, woman," he shouted right back. "Having this child was entirely YOUR idea, REMEMBER?" And to back up his point, he immediately sent memories of the night in Redcliff when Morrigan first revealed her plot to him. She was about shout something to continue the argument, but Matilda ordered her to push again, ans so she never got the chance.

And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, with one final push, she finally felt the baby slip out. Groaning in exhaustion, Morrigan fell back on the bed completely, her vision clouded and covered with colored blotches. Panting heavily, she rolled her head to the side, nearly passing out. In the other room, Matthew felt exactly the same. Head bent over, he very nearly fell on the floor in sheer exhaustion.

Then, they heard it. The first sounds of their new born child.

It wasn't the wailing that Matthew had heard when his nephew, Oren, had been born. Instead, they heard a series of rapid, hitching breaths, the kind one makes when they are about start sobbing, but are trying desperately not to. His entire body trembling, Matthew pushed himself up from his chair and began stumbling to the door, leaning on the wall for support. Finally getting to the door, he undid the latch and, hands shaking the whole time, pushed the door open.

The first thing he saw was Matilda's back, hunched over a tub of warm water holding a bundle of cloth, and occasionally dipping a smaller piece of cloth into the tub, and bringing it back up to bundle in her arm. Turning, he saw Morrigan staring into space, glazed eyes focused on nothing, as an elven servant sponged the sweat from her face.

"Morrigan," he murmured, hobbling over to his wife as quickly as he could. Reaching the bedside, he knelt down, as much because he didn't think that his legs could hold him up any longer as to lower himself to Morrigan's level, and gently took her hand, causing her to finally focus her blank gaze on him. "Morrigan, are you-"

That was all he could get out before his wife suddenly had his throat in a vice grip with the very hand that a moment before had been in his gentle grasp. Constricting the vice, Morrigan leaned forward, and snarled, "We… are never… having any more children… UNDERSTAND!" He winced as his wife's voice became a scream.

"No complaints here…Ma'am," he chocked out. Releasing him, he began gasping for breath again, clutching and messaging his neck. After a few moments, he looked up, and found that Matilda had turned around and began walking back up to the couple, cradling the bundle close. Matthew felt his breath stop, listening for the tiny gasps he had heard before coming in.

"Is… is…" he stammered.

"It is a boy," the aged midwife said calmly, no doubt having faced all this many times before. "And he is, so far as I can tell, in perfect health." And with that, she handed the bundle, which they now noticed was squirming under its own power. Morrigan reached out, and Matilda gently placed the swaddled child in her hands. And when she brought the bundle back to her chest, the couple got their first look at their son.

The infant had a soft, round face, and a full head of flaming red hair, the same color as his father's. The skin was blueish grey, but with a few patches of pinkish red on his cheeks that were growing larger even as he watched. His forehead seemed to be covered in very fine hairs, and his skin was coated with a thin layer of a white substance that the Warden did not know about. As the couple drank in the sight, still not believing that this day had finally come, Matthew suddenly noticed that their child's sobs were starting to increase in pitch and volume.

"Shh, shh," he hushed, stroking his newborn son's cheek with his finger. "Don't cry little one. We're here, you're safe…"

As soon as he began speaking, the child quieted and stilled. Then, as he finished, the babe slowly opened his eyes, looking him directly in the face. Eyes that were as golden as his mother's.

Matthew was stunned by this, and wrapped an arm around Morrigan's shoulders and pressed his head against hers, crying and laughing at the same time.

_He recognizes my voice… _was all he could think. _He recognizes my voice…_

_And so it begins…_ he heard Morrigan sigh through the ring link. Had she spoken normally, it would have sounded as though she was merely mocking him for being so sentimental. However, he knew that that was only part of it; deep in mind, he could see that she also meant that their journey of reinstating the religion of an Old God, an act that could quite possibly get all three of them killed, had now commenced.

However, for the moment, as Matilda ushered the elven servants out of the room to allow the new parents a few moments alone, none of that was particularly important to the couple that now fancied themselves the happiest people in the world.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

**Authors Note: It took almost a year, but it has finally happened; my muse for my M!Hawke/Merrill story, Dragon's Rage, has finally started to return. It should be out not long after this. **

**Also, there is a Harry Potter reference in this chapter, and if you don't spot it immediately and scream "Plagiarism", than you are sad and I will not speak with you again until you have gone back and read all seven books. **

**oo-00-oo**

Fergus Cousland sat stiffly in his carriage, arms and legs crossed together, scowling and nearly hyperventilating with rage. He could not believe his ears the first time he had heard it; it was completely inconceivable to him. There was simply no way he could fathom that his own brother would, upon finding another member of the traitorous Howe family, would not only allow him to live, but to grant him a place by his side in the Grey Wardens, to welcome him as though he were a friend or a guest of honor? What in the Maker's name was wrong with him!

Think back on the past few days, Fergus realized that this news could not have possibly been given to him at a worse time in terms of him being in a good mood. Only a few days before, one of his knights had uncovered evidence of the Chantry's involvement in Howe's coup on his family at the start of the Blight. The Revered Mother had accepted Rendon's blood money and declared him the rightful ruler of Highever, and later had ordered her Templars to help uncover and crush several rebellions against Howe's rule to reinstate the Cousland line. Long story made short, she and her lieutenants had been partaking in Rendon's atrocities hand and fist. He had every intention of executing them as soon as possible, but then this news had broken and he felt it far more pressing an issue.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whine, followed by a wet nudge on his knee. Broken out of his stupor, Fergus looked down, searching for the offender; Gleadr, his brother's mabari hound who he had ordered to remain in Highever with him. In his confusion and anger over Matthew's newest choice, he had forgotten the dog, but the instant he mentioned that he was going to find his brother within earshot of the mabari, he had immediately bounded up and jumped in the carriage, almost knocking Fergus over in the process.

Now, Gleadr was sitting upright, staring at him with his head cocked to the side, eyes boring into his with human-like intelligence and inquisitiveness.

"Don't worry," Fergus said, uncrossing his arms to scratch the mabari behind the ears. He did his best to smile and appear nonchalant. "We'll be seeing your human soon enough."

Gleadr wasn't fooled, though; the hound narrowed his eyes and huffed in irritation, shaking his head around to drive off the Teyrn's fingers. Sighing, he leaned back, looked at the irritatingly intelligent hound, and softly said, "No, I'm not happy with him right now. I am quite angry with him, actually." Hearing a low growling, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Well, if you heard what he was doing, you wouldn't be happy with him either!"

With that, Gleadr gave a massive huff of annoyance and indignation, and turned his back on the Teryn, lying down on the floor of carriage. Fergus rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in frustration.

_Not even the DOG is on my side here, _He thought.

"My lord!"

Fergus was jolted out of his thoughts at the sound of one of his knights calling out to him. Leaning out toward the window, he answered with, "Yes, ser knight?"

"We've arrived at Vigil's Keep, my lord."

Nodding, Fergus leaned back into his seat, frowning, and impatient to get out and find out just what in the Void his little brother was thinking. As his carriage went passed, he was quickly inundated with the sounds of the people within the fortress; soldiers hurrying by with their officers barking orders, small children laughing as played in the breaks from their choirs, a handful of merchants hawking their wares.

Finally, the carriage began to turn, curve to the right, and then finally came to a stop. Immediately, he stood up as high as the carriage roof would allow him to, and swung open the door so fast he nearly sent the servant trying to do the same thing flat on his back. Too agitated to apologize, or even notice, Fergus dropped onto the ground, and immediately began marching up the stone stairs, his guards hurrying to try and catch up. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see the commoners, soldiers, and the staff of the castle recover from the shock on his sudden arrival, and hastily kneeling before him. He ignored them as well.

Fergus quickly made his way through the maze of corridors towards the throne room of Vigil's Keep. He was already well versed in the fortress's layout, the result of numerous trips here with his father as a child. Those were happier times, when the Couslands could still call the Howe's friends. Not for the first time, the Teryn was struck by just how much damage a single man could inflict, and not just to him personally…

After a few minutes of speeding through the castle halls as though he was floating above the ground with wings on his ankles, Fergus finally reached the doors leading to the throne room. Bursting them open, he stormed inside, expecting to find his brother on the throne. What he saw instead were two men in armor and a grey-haired woman having a rather heated discussion, which they cut off upon seeing him enter, and the dwarf that had accompanied Matthew during the Blight slumped against a nearby cask of ale in a drunken stupor.

Taken aback by the loudly snoring dwarven warrior, Fergus came to halt and stared at the strange sight long enough for the older of the two armored men to approach him, and bowed in greeting.

"My lord, Cousland," the man said. "I am Varel, Seneschal of Vigil's Keep. I apologize for not arranging a proper greeting for you; we were not expecting your arrival."

"I… apologize, Seneschal," Fergus replied, now feeling somewhat embarrassed for barging in completely unannounced. "A… sensitive matter has come up, and I need to speak with my brother about it immediately. Please bring him here immediately."

"I'm afraid I can't, Teryn," Varel replied slowly. "Your brother has been… well… incapacitated."

"Incapacitated?" Fergus repeated. "What do you mean? What has happened?" Panic began welling up inside of him; he had been angry with Matthew, yes, but the thought of his brother being injured or-_ NO!_ He squelched that line of thought before it could go on; the consequences were too much to even consider.

"He is in no real danger, my Lord," Varel quickly said. Intertwining his fingers, his lips pressed into a thin line before he continued. "Your brother's situation is… very strange." Looking up at the Teryn apologetically, he said, "I think it would be best if the Arl explained it to you himself."

"Then take me to him. Now!" Fergus nearly shouted. Varel bowed his head, and began leading the Teryn through the halls to the last place he had seen the Commander.

oo-00-oo

Matthew sat in a chair on a small balcony, the sole vanity in the otherwise totally practical Vigil's Keep, that was just across the hall from his and Morrigan's chambers. Cradled in his arms was his newborn son, barely a day old now, wrapped in thick white blankets. He was sleeping sounding, one tiny thumb in his mouth, gently sucking on the appendage as he slumbered. Matthew smiled gently; the babe had just had his first feeding and burping. Morrigan had gone back to sleep almost immediately afterwards, still exhausted by from having just given birth. Matthew, though, was in much better shape; now that the immense pain from the process was no longer being bombarded on him through the ring link, he was recovering from the event much more quickly than his wife.

That said, he still did not feel he was quite ready to go back in the field and fight the darkspawn, so, for the first time in his brief career as Warden Commander, he had been forced to send his followers out on a mission without going himself. A few hours ago, a minor noble of the Arling had arrived at the Keep, telling Matthew that a group of thugs had kidnapped his daughter and were holding her ransom at an old, run-down Chantry for 30 sovereigns, a sum he could not afford, having spent the majority of his funds trying to defend his holdings. So, Matthew had given Nathaniel a sack of 30 sovereigns, outlaid a plan for the group he had chosen to go out with him, which included Sigrun, Anders, and Velanna, and sent them on their way. Given the distance between the Vigil and the site the hostage takers expected to meet, though, he wasn't expecting the group to return until the next day.

He was taken out of his thoughts at the sound three sets of footsteps approaching, two armored and slow and one soft, padded, and quick. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Matthew growled, "Seneschal Varel, I thought I said to leave my wife and I be."

"It's me, brother."

The Warden sat up ramrod straight, utterly shocked by the unexpected voice he was now hearing. Turning his head, and leaning around the back of the chair to get a better look, he saw Seneschal Varel standing beside his mabari, Gleadr and his brother, Fergus.

An enormous grin split across his face. "Fergus! What are you doing here? Come, sit down," he called out, gesturing to the chair beside him. With a small smile, Varel bowed, and turned to leave as Fergus and Gleadr began walking to the balcony. Well, Fergus walked; Gleadr was bounding toward Matthew.

"Wow, wow," Matthew half-shouted, holding up his hand to gesture for the dog to slow down; he was afraid, and not unreasonably so, that Gleadr would try and jump on top of him, and his newborn son! Granted, his child had the soul of an Old God, and logically would be more durable than the average newborn, but he was not willing to put that theory to the test.

Fortunately, Gleadr listened, and brought himself to a halt at the side of his chair, panting happily and twitching with excitement. Extracting his left arm out from under his son, Matthew reached out, and began scratching the mabari behind his ears, who began wagging his small tail so fast it appeared blurred.

"It's good to see you, boy. Both of you," he added, as Fergus began approaching behind the excited dog. "Speaking of which, brother, I have a surprise for you."

"Oh really? And what would that be?" Fergus said, a small grin splitting his features. It lifted Matthew's spirits to see it; he had been forced to focus the majority of his energy on the darkspawn threat, but throughout the last few months he had been worried for his older brother, given all the loss he had gone through.

Returning his brother's smile, he stood up, and finally brought the bundle he was holding into full view. Fergus's face went from his slightly amused grin to one of total shock and wonder. His smile widening, Matthew announced, "Brother, say hello to your nephew; Bryce Oren Cousland."

At his words, Fergus's eye's bugged out even wider, and his gaze immediately darted to the baby, and back to Matthew's again, his expression unreadable. The Warden suddenly felt his stomach fall out; he hadn't considered how Fergus would react to him naming his newborn after his nephew, who had been killed during Renden Howe's coup at Highever Castle. Immediately, he started backpedaling. "Is that alright? It… just seemed… I'm sorry I didn't bring it up you, brother, I just-"

"No," Fergus whispered; he sounded as though he had just had the wind knocked out of him. "No, Matthew, I'm not upset, you just… took me by surprise, that's all."

Despite his brother's reassurance, Matthew still felt extremely guilty about his choice. Though he had done his best to hide it and focus on rebuilding his Terynier, it was obvious that Fergus was still in agony over the loss of his wife and son. And Matthew himself was terrified of the same happening to him and his own family. During the Blight, the mere thought of loosing Morrigan had been more than enough to keep him up long into the night. He had known his son for less than a day, and already the thought of losing him was intolerable. To have them both killed at once… he shuddered inwardly. He could not imagine living through that. Immediately, the Warden's respect for his brother soared.

"May I hold him?"

The simple question jolted Matthew out of his thoughts, and back to reality. Grateful that their conversation had shifted back to more pleasant territory, he smiled slightly, and answered, "Only if you swear on everything you own that you will support his head and neck properly. I practically had to sign a binding contract before Morrigan would let me lay more than a finger on him."

That got a chuckle out of Fergus, and Matthew handed little Bryce over to his uncle, carefully. Making sure he was holding the babe properly, Fergus took a small step back, bouncing the bundle in his arms slightly as he did so. Bryce, though, remained asleep, his thumb falling out of his mouth and down to his chest. Reaching over, Matthew tucked the tiny, bright red appendage back under the blanket he was wrapped in.

"He's pretty heavy," Fergus commented, testing his nephew's weight.

"Yes," Matthew groaned, his mind going back to the night before. "An even eight pounds, the little…"

As the Warden began muttering obscenities at his spawn, Fergus turned his attention back to his nephew. Reaching over with his offhand, he began stroking the infant's checks and chin. As he touched Bryce's nose, though, the baby's face began to twitch. He took a hitched breath, and let out an adorable little sneeze that managed to shake him awake. Blinking in surprise, the infant finally focused his gaze on his uncle, who was transfixed by the newborn.

Sensing that his brother was standing right next to him, Fergus turned and, with a small smile, said, "He's your spitting image, brother."

"He is," Matthew answered, pride evident in his voice. "Except his eyes. He has his mother's eyes."

Looking back down at his nephew, Fergus took a closer look and, to his amazement, he saw that, indeed, behind the grey film that covered the eyes of newborns, was his mother's yellow, wolf-like eyes.

"I've never seen anyone with yellow eyes until you introduced me to your wife, brother," Fergus said, bringing up a subject that had been at the back of his mind for some time. "I had assumed that it had something to do with her being a mage, but seeing that they have been passed on to your son, it is obviously more than that."

Matthew simply shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers to that either. Perhaps it is a rare trait that has been bred out of humans over the centuries. Maybe it is unique to the people of the Korkari Wilds. There is any number of possibilities."

Accepting Matthew's thoughts on the matter, Fergus was about to go back to looking at his now awake nephew, when he remembered what the Seneschal had said before Fergus had forced him to lead him to his brother in the first place. Turning his gaze back to his brother, he said, "Matthew, when I first got here, your Seneschal said that you were out of commission. What happened?"

"He happened," Matthew responded with venom, pointing at Byrce, who began to reach out to grab at his father's finger. "You remember what I told you about the rings Morrigan and I wear? About how we can share thoughts and feelings over a long distance?" When Fergus nodded he continued. "Well, apparently, we can share something else; labor pains."

Fergus winced, but then appeared confused. "So," he asked, "Why didn't you simply take the ring off?"

Narrowing his eyes, Matthew said, "Why, so I can hear '_you have no idea how painful childbirth is' _for the rest of my days? No thank you."

Fergus had to snort at his brother's stubbornness. "So," he asked, deciding to drag this out even further. "What is it like to give birth?"

Matthew paused, thinking of a way to properly answer his brother's question, during which Bryce managed to get a hold of his finger, and trying to bring it down to his mouth.

"Well," the Warden finally answered, "Let me put it this way; do you know what it is like to be in physical agony?"

Cocking an eyebrown, the Teryn said, "I think I have a pretty good idea, yes."

"No you don't."

The two stood still for a moment, letting Matthew's simple statement hang in the air as he stared into Fergus's eyes, daring him to challenge what he said. Eventually, Matthew shifted his arm uncomfortably, and asked, "Fergus, could you please give me my son back? I don't think he is going to let go of me anytime soon, and holding my arm out like this is most unpleasant."

Chuckling, Fergus did as he was requested, though somewhat reluctantly if the slight hesitation in his hands was to be believed. Taking Bryce back into his arms, Matthew began trying to tug his finger out of the baby's mouth, but the infant stubbornly refused to release him, tugging the finger back into his mouth with surprising strength given his small size. Finally, Matthew simply gave up, and walked back over to his chair, letting his son gum on his finger. He resolved to get Bryce out of this habit as soon as possible; he did not want him doing this when he started getting his teeth.

Looking up, he saw Fergus sit in the chair opposite him, wistfully looking at the two. The Warden felt his gut twist again at the thought of his brother's loss. He wished that he could go back in time and make Rendon Howe suffer even more for what he had done to his brother. Of course, if he could go back in time, he supposed he should just go farther back and warn his family of Howe's betrayal and prevent the attack altogether.

Deciding to steer the conversation so as to get his brother's mind away from the subject, Matthew asked, "So, Fergus, what brings you out to Vigil's Keep? I am certainly glad to see you, but I don't think you would up and leave Highever in the state it is in just to drop by and say hello to Morrigan and I."

All traces of good humor immediately vanished from Fergus's face, and he slumped back in the chair, and stared into the distance, hands folded on his lap. Finally, he turned his gaze back to Matthew, and whispered, "It's the Chantry."

"Of course it is," Matthew said, rolling his eyes. "Have the self-righteous hypocrites tried assassinating you, too?"

"No, but they did-" Fergus began, before his eyes bulged and he spluttered out, "Wait, what you mean by 'you, too'!"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Matthew asked mockingly. "The Revered Mother of the Amaranthine Chantry tried to have me murdered. She sent out a group of her best Templars to ambush my Wardens and I."

"And," Fergus exclaimed, waving his hands for his brother to elaborate.

He shrugged and simply said, "And I ambushed them instead."

Fergus cocked an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Yes," Matthew said. "For the Templars, at least. After I was finished with them, I went to the city, arrested the Revered Mother and her accomplices, which included all the 'holy' mothers save one, dragged them back to the Keep and threw them in the dungeon. Anyway," he finally finished his small diatribe, "What exactly did you catch them red-handed at?"

Fergus leaned back in his seat, exhaling loudly. Slowly, he began to explain what he had discovered about the Highever Chantry, and his own purge thereof. Throughout his brother's explanation, he continually kicked himself for not spotting this sooner. He _was_ the resident Chantry-hater of the Cousland family, after all. How could he have let this slip past him? It should have been plain as day! Granted, like Fergus, he had been focused on rebuilding Highever, specifically its military, but still…

Once his brother had finally finished his story, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "You know, Fergus, I didn't think it was possible, but I respect the Chantry _even less_."

"You mean, even lower than they were after some of its members attempted to have you murdered?" Fergus asked, a slight smirk on his face.

"Yes, actually," Matthew replied, though there was no trace of humor in his voice. Looking down, he noticed that Byrce had gone to sleep again, and finally took his finger out of the baby's mouth. Lifting his head back up to meet his brother's gaze, he said, "I wasn't going to go through with my original plan to deal with those traitors; much as I hate to admit it, it seemed like an overreaction. But this seals the deal."

"What were you planning?" Fergus asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Smirking, Matthew began laying out his plan. By the time he was done, Fergus was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth open in utter shock at the unabashed ambition of his younger brother's plan. Finally, after Matthew had laid out what he intended to do, the Teryn leaned back in his chair, and said, "You really intend to go through with this?"

"Of course," Matthew answered without hesitation. "The Chantry has been doing things that are undeniably evil and completely against the code they have supposedly sworn their lives to. And those actions are bringing Fereldan and what is left of our family line, otherwise known as _just us_, to harm. They cannot be allowed to continue their free roam as they clearly cannot be trusted with it. Even if my plan doesn't work as I plan, it will certainly shake them out of their delusion that we will simply lie down and ignore it all."

"But still," Fergus said, frowning with worry. "This scheme of yours, no matter how righteous and well-intentioned, has very little chance of succeeding in either the immediate or distant future."

Cocking an eyebrow, Matthew answered, "You are talking to the man who lead a small group to topple the Fifth Blight. Don't tell me something can't be done, brother."

Fergus sighed and shook his head, trying to come up with some king of reason that his little brother's idea could possibly end without him ending up hanged for heresy. Before he could think of anything, though, he suddenly had nails driven into his eardrums.

"NO!" Matilda's unnaturally loud and enraged voice came roaring out the Arl's chamber. "ABSOLUTELY NOT! THAT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION ENTIRELY! IT IS COMPLETELY UNNATURAL!"

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THINGS YOU HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE OF, HAG," was Morrigan's equally ear-splitting response. "EVERY FEMALE THAT HAS LIVE BIRTHS DOES _EXACTLY _THE SAME THING! THERE ARE FEW THINGS THAT ARE _MORE_ NATURAL THAN THIS!"

"THAT IS IT! I am dragging your husband in here, and having HIM straighten you out!"

The Commander immediately whipped his neck to the side, and, nearly panicking, shouted, "Whatever it is you two are arguing about, I WANT NO PART IN IT!"

His instinctive yelling, though, only meant he had shot himself in the foot; his screaming had awoken Byrce, who immediately began wailing in displeasure at the noise and added to the crescendo with his shrieks.

And so, as the Warden desperately tried to calm down his upset newborn son, while Morrigan and her midwife continued to shriek at each other and were becoming more and more incomprehensible with each passing moment, Fergus leaned back and let the sounds of domestic bliss wash over him.

_I didn't remember how much I missed this, _the Teryn thought with a small smile on his face.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

_I certainly hope our Commander is enjoying his little break, _Nathaniel thought, as he sent another arrow whistling through the air and into a chink in hurlock's armor, while nearby Anders froze three Genlocks solid so that Velana and Sigrun could smash them into pieces. It had been like this ever since they had started out; what was supposed to be a quick trip to ransom a minor noble's daughter, lasting a few days at most, had turned into a week-long slog as darkspawn, bandits, packs of wolves, and even, at one point, a group of dragons had all come out against them. It was driving Nathaniel to the limit of his command ability, and driving everyone to the limits of their patience.

Taking his mind away from these complaints, the unofficial second in command of Fereldan Grey Wardens turned his attention to the Hurlock Alpha coming down towards the group. As it saw Nathaniel take aim, it lifted its heavy shield to cover its head and torso… so Nathaniel simply lowered his aim, and loosed the arrow into beast's thigh. Hissing in pain, the Alpha's shield moved out of alignment, and Nathaniel quickly released three more arrows into it its chest. With all the enemies he could see dead, Nathaniel turned just in time to see Anders torch a Shriek, Velanna smash the rim of her shield into a Genlock's skull, and Sigrun drive her dagger into the last Hurlock's gut, then split its skull in two with her ax.

Immediately, the itch in his mind, the Grey Warden's ability to sense the presence of darkspawn, went away. He had not felt it at first, immediately after his Joining, but recently it had appeared, and grew stronger with every passing day. He knew that Oghren, who had taken the Joining with him, was undergoing the same change. Sigrun had only just gone through her joining, and Velanna not much earlier, so they had not yet felt the change. Nathaniel knew they would, though, and soon.

Walking up to the other members of his group, he began giving out orders. "Anders and Velanna, burn the corpses. Sigrun, riffle through their pockets, see if they have anything of value." After that, he went off to collect his arrows. He knew he was being rude, but after the trying time they had all had, his patience was at its limits. Coming up to the first darkspawn he had shot, he bent down and began ripping them out of the corpse, cleaning the blood off of them with a rag before placing them back in his quiver.

"You are hurt."

Turning around, he saw, to his surprise, that it was Velanna who had spoken, and that she actually appeared genuinely concerned, if only slightly.

"What?" Nathaniel asked.

Now Velanna's usually sneer began to return. "You are hurt. What is so difficult to understand about that? Did a darkspawn arrow graze your head as well as your arm?" she spat, pointing to Nathaniel's right arm. Looking to where she was pointing, he saw that he, indeed, had been scrapped across the arm, leaving a bloody groove.

Turning back to his search for his arrows, Nathaniel tried to ignore the elf; after everything that they had all been going through, he did not have the patience for this. "It's fine," he muttered.

"I should still have a look at it," she said, her sneer faltering slightly. "The archer could have poisoned the arrowhead, and it could still become infected even if it was not."

Pausing as he reached for more of his arrows, Nathaniel considered snapping at her to keep quite. But something kept him quite. He was the leader on this mission. He should be behaving better than this, no matter how frustrated he was. Standing back up, he stretched his arm out, and said, "Alright, then." Carefully moving the cloth, leather, and mail aside, Velanna began a simple spell that would sanitize and seal the wound. Behind them, Nathaniel could hear Ander's begin to set the darkspawn corpses alight, the whoosh of flames repeating half a dozen times, pausing only to make sure that Sigrun was well clear.

Finally finished with her spell, Velanna stepped away. "There", she said, with a slightly curt edge.

"Thank you, Velanna," Nathaniel said, flexing his arm to test her handiwork. As the elven mage turned back, though, he made a move to stop her.

"Velanna," he called, getting her to stop. "I… I owe you an apology, for my behavior just now. This mission has been frustrating, but that is no excuse." He paused, then blushed slightly and added, "Also, I'm sorry for saying that your ears were clownish."

Velanna seemed taken aback at first, than stammered out, "I… I accept your apology." She also paused, then said, "I… I suppose that I owe you an apology as well. For what I said about how human nobles were all oppressors."

Nathaniel was more than a little surprised at this. "Really?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes", Velanna said, now growing more aloof. "I am certain that there are at least a few decent humans in power in the world. Somewhere."

Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel went back to collecting his arrows, as Velanna turned to help Anders burn the darkspawn dead. _She really isn't all that bad, _he thought. _You just need to get past her shell. Her very, very, VERY thick shell. _

oo-00-oo

Several hours after that ambush was fought off, the group finally arrived at their destination; an old, ruined chantry, that had been destroyed by a hurricane in the last age. This was where the kidnappers had said they would meet with them, and the father of the girl they had taken, Lord Edgar Bensley, had set up in the nearby copse of trees, with a few of his retainers accompanying him. It was plain that they had been there for some time already, a few days at least. Needless to say, Lord Bensley was not pleased with how long it had taken the four of them to arrive, though his protests abated once Nathaniel had managed to explain the difficulties the group of Grey Wardens had encountered. He also took a moment to explain the plan Commander Matthew had devised for dealing with the kidnappers. The Lord had objected at first, claiming the plan placed his daughter in unnecessary danger, but relented once Nathaniel explained that his daughter's safety was first priority, and that if he could not execute the plan without compromising that safety then he would not attempt it.

Not willing to wait another moment with his daughter in danger, Bensley chose three of his retainers, and marched out onto the bridge leading to the ruined building, which was built on an outcrop of rock overlooking the sea. Nathaniel had to wonder why the bandits had chosen such a poor location to try and make an exchange; the bridge was the only way for them to escape, and Nathaniel's group controlled it. These bandits were either very brave or very foolish to make such a grave mistake.

_I suppose it doesn't matter, _Nathaniel thought, _given what the Commander told me to do with them. _

Once all eight members of the group had crossed the wooden bridge leading to the ruined chantry, they formed up behind Bensley and Nathaniel, and began marching toward the building. Before they could come within fifteen feet of the ruined wall, however, three men wearing leather and light ring mail and armed with daggers and axes marched out, blocking their way forward.

"That's close enough," the man in the center, whom Nathaniel assumed was the leader of this treasonous enterprise, said, hand resting on his ax haft.

"Where is she," Edgar snarled, hand immediately reaching for his blade, though one of his knights quickly grabbed his arm to keep him from drawing it. "Where is my daughter!"

The ringleader's only response was to hold out his hand expectantly. "The money first."

Nathaniel crossed his arms, and replied, "You are not seeing one copper until we know Bensley's daughter is alive and unharmed."

The thug's eye's narrowed, but he turned his head, and said, "Hawk, bring the girl out."

A fourth bandit stepped out from the ruins, dragging the hostage with him. The girl, who looked to be no more than 17 years old, was bound at the wrists, gagged, and with a blindfold around her eyes. The man named Hawk was also holding a knife to her throat.

"There," the ringleader said, his voice growing harder. "The girl's alright, as promised. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take the money."

Nathanial pulled a bulging sack from his pack, holding it out before him, and said, "First you send the girl over."

The bandit leader's eyes narrowed, but he turned to his lackey and snapped, "Hawk, send her over." The man holding the girl looked confused for a moment, but then began moving toward the Grey Warden's guiding his hostage along. At the same time, one of Bensley's knights moved toward the two, and, once they had met halfway, relieved the outlaw of the girl. Both began a hasty retreat to their respective groups, the knight removing the girl's blindfold as he did so.

"The money," the bandit leader snarled. "NOW."

Nathaniel looked at the sack, then back at the bandits, and tossed it nonchalantly into the no-man's-land between the two groups.

The bandit leader gave Nathaniel a glare that could have heated up a stone cold furnace. "Hawk, go get the Wardens' coin."

"Why me?" the man named Hawk demanded. "Why am I always the one doing all the bitch work?"

"Hawk," the leader's reply came, his voice now deathly quiet. "Get. The money. Now."

Throwing his hands up in disgust, Hawk stepped forward to grab the sack… only to stop as Nathaniel brought up his bow, arrow knocked and aimed directly at his chest.

"Stay right where you are," he whispered, just loudly enough for the bandits to hear.

At this, both groups pulled their weapons, or in Anders and Velanna's case, readied their spells. Bensley and his men quickly stepped in front of the lord's daughter to shield her.

The stalemate was held for only a few seconds, but it felt like an entire age passed before Nathaniel gave his next order. "Everyone. Get back across the bridge. Now." The entire time, he kept his bow aimed directly at the bandit leader.

Sigrun, Anders, Velanna, and Bensley all looked at him, utterly confused, but eventually did as he said, slowly backing out across the wooden plank bridge. The Wardens soon followed, Nathaniel bringing up the rear, never letting his aim wander. The bandit leader, for his part, stayed put, although he kept his gaze level with Nathaniel the entire time. This staring contest lasted until their entire group reentered the copse of trees, and out of sight.

"Well, at least this foolish quest is done," he heard Velanna gripe, as she walked up to look him full in the face.

"Why did we even give them the coin, anyway?" she demanded. "My clan would never give anyone who captured a member of the clan such a reward unless there was no chance of rescuing them, which we could have done when the imbeciles gave her to us before you gave them the ransom money! Why would you give them what they wanted?"

"I didn't," he said, pulling out a second sack and giving it a shake, the gold coins inside jingling together.

"Wait a moment," Sigrun interrupted, coming up behind the other two Wardens. "If you have the ransom money here, then what did you give the bandits?"

Barely a moment after the dwarf had spoken, an enormous explosion rang out, so strong that Nathaniel felt the shock wave in his chest. Through the gaps in the trees, he saw a not-unsubstantial purplish-blue fireball, as well as pieces of debris from the now completely destroyed former Chantry. Nathaniel could hear small pieces ran down in the trees near them, though they fortunately did not reach their group.

"A rune of fire, a burlap sack our Circle Ambassador enchanted to be airtight, and at least three pounds of lyrium-based explosive powder developed by Dworkin Glavonak that Warden Commander Cousland bid me test on the kidnappers," Nathaniel sighed. "The Commander believed that infighting such as this would interfere with our attempts to fight the darkspawn bands. So, he told me to rescue Bensley's daughter, test Dworkin's explosives, and make an example of Bensley's daughter's kidnappers, explicitly in that order."

"Was…that really necessary?" Sigrun asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Seems reasonable to me," Anders said with a shrug. "'If you kidnap our lords' daughters, then we will make you explode.'"

Nathaniel groaned, reaching down into his pack, and retrieved a small stack of vellum, quills, and ink bottles. "Take these," he said, handing some of each to the three other wardens. "Matthew said he wanted detailed notes on the results, including any potential for lyrium poisoning; Velanna, Anders, you two deal with the last part. Sigrun, you and I will report on the physical effects of the blast."

After hearing three affirmative answers from his companions, Nathaniel turned and, no longer hearing the sound of falling rubble, lead the way back to bandits' former meeting place, groaning as he did so.

_A curse on all bloody deranged Couslands! _he thought.

oo-00-oo

"Are you sure you can't stay longer, Fergus," the Teyrn of Highever heard his brother say, standing on the steps before the entrance to the keep. Beside him was Morrigan, holding his newborn nephew. They were flanked by several of Amaranthine's knights and the dwarven warrior Oghren. His sister-in-law's midwife was also present, glaring at her from behind.

"I would love to, Matthew," Fergus said, turning back from the carriage he had arrived in. "But I have already been away from Highever for too long; I need to get back and make sure everything is still in order; people are practically rioting over the revelation that the Chantry supported Howe's coup."

His younger brother frowned for a moment before giving a slight smirk; Fergus had to wonder at that.

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Not that I would mind having that horrid place pulled down."

Fergus laughed. "Oh, come now little brother," he said. "Was pulling out one of the bushes not enough for you?"

"That only happened once!" Matthew nearly shouted in exasperation.

"That reminds me of something I have been meaning to ask you, my dear," Morrigan said, turning to her husband. "Why did your parents not discipline you for doing such a thing? From what you have told me of them, I doubt they would have allowed such poor behavior from their children."

"Who says they didn't" Matthew groaned. "I got ten good lashes on the back for that little stunt. And after that, I had to spend a fortnight memorizing as much as the Chant of Light as I could."

"That came back to haunt them, as I recall," Fergus added. "It wasn't long after that that little brother began asking the sisters and mothers awkward questions, like why elves are ostracized when they helped Andraste overthrow the Imperium, or if mages who worship the Maker are called our 'brothers and sisters', then why are thrown into towers and not allowed to leave."

"That was around the time I stopped thinking of the Chantry as a boring waste of time and starting thinking of it as a hypocritical, loathsome institution that needs to be cast down and cast out," Matthew muttered.

"I find it rather difficult to disagree at the moment, brother," Fergus said, caution coloring his voice. "But please, be careful about this. Wrong or no, the Chantry is still incredibly powerful. Not to mention that you still have the remnants of the Blight to deal with at the same time. You had best tread lightly with this."

"Don't worry brother. I will be careful with the vile, disgusting, bloated, all-consuming monstrosities. And the darkspawn, too."

Snorting, Fergus stepped forward and embraced his brother, who returned the gesture. Whispering another warning he was fairly certain would not be heeded. Pulling away, he turned to his sister-in-law, saying, "My lady, I assume that you will be able to rein my brother in when he begins to get in over his head?"

"Oh, indeed I shall," Morrigan said, smiling evilly. "In fact, if he oversteps himself, I dear say that he would rather I was not there to save him by the time I am through with him." Out of the corner of his eye, Fergus saw Matthew shift uncomfortably and cough into the back of his hand.

"I'm sure," The Teyrn of Highever laughed. Looking down to the babe, he hesitated, then lifted his arms slightly. "May I?" he asked, indicating to his nephew. Morrigan looked down at her son, clearly quite reluctant to let him go, but after a look of encouragement from Matthew, she handed him carefully to Fergus.

Cradling the few-days old infant, who was currently asleep, carefully, Fergus stroked Bryce's fine hair, whispering, "Goodbye, Bryce. I will see you whenever I can visit." The newest member of the Cousland family twitched in his sleep, but otherwise did not move.

Handing the bundle back to his brother's wife, he turned back to his brother, gave him one last handshake goodbye, and entered his carriage. With one last smile and wave goodbye, the driver and the knights that had followed him headed out.

It was only just as he and his retainers had passed out of sight of the keep that Fergus realized something; in the past few days that he had been at Vigil's Keep, he had not ever asked about Nathaniel Howe, which was the entire purpose of his coming here.

Before he could decide whether to have his men turn around and return to the keep, however, he heard the sound of horse screaming in pain. And instant latter, he found himself thrown forward as the carriage came to a sudden stop.

"BANDITS" a cry went out from one the Teryn's retainers, followed by twangs of bowstrings, sickening wet crunches and screams of pain.

Shaking his head to try and regain his sense of direction, Fergus reached up to the carriage's seat for his sword. Pulling the blade from his sheath, Fergus came up to his knees and moved toward the door. Just as he reached it, however, a man in mail covered in rust and a leather cap, armed with a crossbow appeared in the window and aimed it at the Teryn.

Rushing forward, Fergus grabbed the crossbow's stock and shoved it to the side as it launched its bolt, sending the missile into the side of the carriage. At the same time, he drove his sword forward and into the bandit's eye and out the back of his skull. Pulling the blade out of the twitching corpse, Fergus grabbed his kite shield, emblazoned with the laurel wreath of his House, kicked open the carriage door, and stepped out.

Immediately, he saw his three retainers on this side of the carriage were dead, their bodies riddled with crossbow bolts. Standing over them were at least five bandits, and judging by sounds coming from the other side of the carriage, there were more coming up behind him.

Two of the bandits still held crossbows, though only one was loaded. The one with the loaded bow immediately loosed its bolt at Fergus, who ducked behind his shield. The bolt managed to punch through the shield, but stopped far short of hurting him. Charging forward, Fergus caught the two men who held the crossbow, both of whom had made the mistake of reloading their weapons instead of dropping them for a close combat weapon. The first he decapitated, and the second lost a leg and a hand.

Turning to the sound of footsteps coming up behind him, Fergus raised his oaken shield, blocking an axe blow, and stabbed its owner in the stomach, who went down, howling in agony. Turning to the remaining two bandits, he saw four more come around the carriage, brandishing their own weapons.

Holding his shield before him and raising his sword over his head, Fergus roared, and charged his remaining attackers.

**A.N. I am embarrassed to say that I had plans to have this entire story finished before Inquisition came out. Look how well that went. **

**As for Inquisition itself, I really, really like it (although I STILL have not finished it yet, so no spoilers please). The only real flaws I have found a handful of glitches, the pointlessness of most of the side quests, and the fact I there is so much stuff to bloody do in the game that at times it feels like swimming through mud.**

**Also, Vivienne and Sera. **

**FUCK**** Vivienne and Sera. Fuck them with a rusty, jagged-edged halberd. **

**Other than that, I love the game, and look forward to not having any more college classes so I can actually play it. **


End file.
